


World Enough and Time

by Shamera



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, let's replace Geass with the power of music while we're at it, what if Lelouch and Nunnally were taken back after the invasion of Japan, what if Ragnarok turned out different than expected, what if the royal family had abilities that kept them in power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2019-09-20 18:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 143,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17028117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamera/pseuds/Shamera
Summary: Six months after Ragnarok, all Kallen wants to do is protect the people she loves, even if it means betraying everything in her heart to serve a Britannian prince. Suzaku wants to reverse a mistake he made but would never take back. Euphemia is willing to risk everything of herself in order to be a better person and find a cure. And Lelouch... Lelouch wants to make the world safe for his little sister, even if it means destroying everything in his path.(aka the Lost Song inspired zombie apocalypse AU I always wanted to write for Code Geass. This is going to be a ride.)





	1. So too, must all end

The first thing Kozuki Kallen saw as she looked out the transport were the shifting, tumultuous grey-cast skies gathering clouds too fast for it to be natural. Wisps of darkness slithered through the clouds, barely visible yet drawing the eye like spectres weaving through the sky, making her shiver as the hairs on her skin prickled in warning.

“Cadet Stadtfeld!” A man— boy, really— greeted her with a sharp salute as the high, whining noise of the transport engine continued to grate on her ears, propulsion system blowing wisps of hair that escaped from underneath her cap into her face violently even as she made her way off with a jump, no ramp there to support her as the transport hovered an unsteady meter from the ground. Within seconds of her departure, the remaining men inside shouted at the pilot to lift off, and the plane rose up in a hurry, eager to leave before the skies decided to trap them all in the oncoming Storm.

She looked up as the small transport left, taking her only way out with them.

“Cadet Stadtfeld!” The boy called again, and this time Kallen snapped to attention, clicking her heels together and straightening her pose in a salute back, the movement smooth and trained into her after the past three months on the accelerated program of the Britannian military academy, in a class she managed to wheedle her way into thanks to her Britannian noble name.

“Yes!” She answered, eyeing him warily. Her greeter looked slightly younger than herself, no matter how tall he was, with blond hair and the bright blue eyes that were customary of Britannian nobility, although the expression on his face was softened by youth and the lingering traces of baby fat still, despite long limbs and a limberness that told of military training.

“Oh, good,” and this time the boy seemed to relax, a rueful grin slipping on his face as he gestured her forward. “I wasn’t sure if I got the wrong person, you know. There were three different transports arranged for the past hour, and I missed two, so I took a wild guess. Lucky for me, it seems!”

The words just irritated her, even as Kallen took in her surroundings. Army base tents surrounding the perimeter, transport trucks and several Knightmare Frames patrolling the area in what looked like a busy time— as it should be, the way the sky was roiling. The base was soon to be under attack at this rate, but no one looked like they were evacuating. In fact, most of the activity of hustle and bustle looked like they were gearing up, the men and women in smartly pressed uniforms hurrying to their destination with grim and determined looks on their faces.

“This way,” the boy told her, and then pressed a hand to his own chest as he walked— backwards, of all things, as if he were guiding her at a school instead of a battle zone, “I’m Gino, by the way. Gino Weinberg. You got here just in time— we’ll have to get you knighted up, or else you won’t survive this place for long.”

Kallen swallowed thickly, following him and she fidgeted with the high collar of her uniform, steps precise and even and— sinking into the mud of the ground. The feeling of it was disgusting, squishing under her wetly to suggest heavy rainfall recently. She didn’t respond to him, not having any inclination to talk to the kid, as he felt like a kid despite being a full head taller than her with the way he seemed so wide-eyed and innocent here, cheerful as if they weren’t standing at the cusp of the edge of the world.

He seemed to get the hint as she looked away, and sighed rather loudly before turning around and leading her toward a large structure that must have been where they stored Knightmares with how tall and wide the temporary building was.

As he opened the flap of flexible wall material for her, gesturing in a chivalrous manner for her to walk ahead. Kallen noted the immediate difference in both temperature and scents inside, a sense of calm falling over her immediately out of reach of those skies as the warmer atmosphere warmed her skin immediately even through the thick layers of her black military uniform.

The lights inside were extremely bright, and she shielded her eyes from the difference for a moment before taking in the view of rows and rows of Knightmare Frames— more than she had ever seen in one place outside of television broadcasts about factories.

Kallen’s breath stuttered a moment with hope. It looked enough to fight a war, and if they were extremely lucky, even _win_.

The uniform sound of steps on pavement coming towards them drew her attention toward a tall lady in a white lab coat with a barely buttoned shirt and black slacks, carrying a long pipe in hand as she smiled at them under a curtain of white-blonde hair hanging loose down to her waist, strangely turquoise eyes sharp despite her clearly Indian descent shaping her eyes and the bridge of her nose, framed by warm brown skin.

“Is this the new ace for my precious Guren, then?” She asked Gino, who grinned in greeting and gave an affirmation. “Ahh. We’ll have to get you suited up and Knighted soon. How many simulation hours did you clock in the Academy?”

“A hundred and forty-two, ma’am,” Kallen said, nodding in greeting. If she wasn’t going to give her name, then she had no reason to introduce herself in return. “I scored top of the Academy in every simulation battle involving KMF battle—”

The woman waved her words away, “Yes, yes. No need for that. His Highness wouldn’t take anyone but the best, after all. Come along, then, follow me.”

Gino gave her a thumbs up as Kallen looked his direction, and she only gave a nod of acknowledgement in return before stepping to follow the woman’s extremely long strides.

“Your name?” The woman asked as they walked, steps brisk as several scientists and pilots passed them by, some standard Sutherland KMFs active and testing its system, the large machines drawing Kallen’s awe.

“Karen Stadtfeld, ma’am.” Kallen informed her curtly.

“Stadtfeld.” The woman tilted her head to give her a sly smile, but didn’t comment further on the noble name. “Whatever you learned in basic about KMFs, throw it all out. You won’t be able to pilot the Guren on such drivel. None of that will prepare you for real piloting. Not until you set foot in an actual cockpit and breathe in the air of real battle.”

They passed down a hallway (and it surprised her that such a building even had a hallway no matter the size— temporary military construction tended to be one big box of a tent each time, read to be torn down and packed within an hour if necessary), where the lighting dimmed significantly, until it nearly matched the skies outside.

A pair of guards standing guard outside a door nodded to them as they approached, both holding their weapons and already prepared for combat despite how deep they were in the base, and their visors down to obstruct their features, giving them the slightly eerie appearance of statues with the way the uniform folded over their figures to make them look almost exactly the same.

The woman leading her smirked at the guards and reached for the pipe in her pocket, inserting a wad of tobacco at the end. “Is His Highness in, then?”

“The new recruit?” One of the guards asked, voice rough with old injury.

"No, a songstress." The woman waved her pipe at him as she drawled out her sarcasm. “You know it.”

With a quick glance at each other, the two guards nodded, and then moved to allow them through the door.

All this pomp, Kallen thought darkly, for people who couldn’t even be touched by the enemy. These days, no one was willing to harm or kill a member of the royal family, and all they had to do was sit back while their soldiers and knights fought and died for them. It was all a pretentious farce, but the whole world was scrambling to get into their good graces.

Even her, now.

The woman strode into the room without so much as a knock, and Kallen followed her, schooling her features into something professional and blank. As the woman stopped, so too did Kallen, folding her arms behind her back and with her feet at shoulder’s width as she straightened her posture into military precision.

There were only two people occupying the large and spartan room, sides covered with monitors that ran past information too fast for Kallen to comprehend, and the large table in the center of the room holding various files and technological devices, setting up a three dimensional map of what she could only assume was the land surrounding the base, in various colors that she didn’t yet understand the correlation to. There were no chairs or other such articles of comfort in the room, intentionally designed for work and not play.

A young woman with bright green hair and deeply piercing amber eyes was leaned up toward a young man dressed in a crisp suit of black and silver, the embroidery and filigree on the clothing marking him clearly as a member of the royal family for those who might not have seen the broadcasts of various princes and princesses on television.

Kallen, however, followed the news with due diligence for years, and recognized the sharp and unusually violet eyes before anything else, having seen all the broadcasts with the Emperor and his tyrannical and contemptuous speeches, letting them fuel her rage until her attacks were sharper, deadlier, than ever.

She hated those eyes immediately.

“Your Highness,” the woman who guided her drawled out, her lack of respect and proper court etiquette surprising Kallen. “My pilot has arrived. Seeing as the battle starts within the hour, it’d be best to knight her immediately to give her this test run first.”

“Impertinent as always, Miss Chawla,” the young man said, although with no heat in his tone. Kallen studied him intently as he straightened: tall, although nowhere near as tall as the boy who guided her before, or even the woman speaking to him now. He was as fair-skinned as the rest of the royal family, with straight black hair that made him look paler, and even the layers of expensive fabric couldn’t hide the sharp jut of his jaw and thin wrists, accompanied by delicate features and those striking, vibrant eyes.

Oh, Kallen thought with dark satisfaction, she could _definitely_ take him in a fight.

“Well?” And this time, the woman directed her question at her. “Introduce yourself, girl.”

She ignored her own displeasure at the title, and raised her chin, “Cadet Karen Stadtfeld, Your Highness. Of the Imperial Colchester Military Academy.”

At that, the woman snorted. “What do you know. My alma mater.”

The green haired woman didn’t comment as the man— very obviously the prince, whose dossier had been tragically short in the file handed to her to read on her way here, brushed her off casually and stepped lightly around the table, his every movement elegant and refined.

A waste, Kallen thought behind the shield of her blank expression, when what the world needed right now was strength rather than the frivolous charms trained into the royal family. If they weren’t so intrinsically important to the war, then they would have died out quickly.

But as it was, the royal family were the only ones who could boast immunity to the Blight, with safety and protection offered to those who swore themselves into the family’s service. Apparently the divine right of kings, as bullshit as Kallen believed it to be, had some sort of merit in the current world. Everyone was after it, but none could manage to replicate its effects. The higher the loyalty and the longevity of service boasted the best resistance, and one that could be spread to loved ones like some magical blessing.

With Japan in shambles and the settlement she grew up in being choked by all sides by the Blight, she _needed_ that protection. No one understood how it worked, exactly, but that didn’t matter as much as the fact that it _worked_.

“The ace pilot,” he acknowledged, and she was displeased to note he was several inches taller than her now that he was closer. She was also displeased when her brain acknowledged him with an appreciative _pretty_ and seemed to settle on that while he spoke. “We have quite a lot to talk of, but I’m afraid Miss Chawla is correct. I’ll stick to the basics— why are you here, Cadet Stadtfeld?”

“To serve under you, Your Highness,” Kallen said by rut, hands clenched behind her back. “To protect you and your interests, and fight in your honor. To serve as your sword and shield, and—”

He held up a hand, clearly too used to hearing this speech and looking rather displeased. For a moment, Kallen feared he would send her back and ask for another cadet, even if she decimated the scores of everyone else in her Academy. There were hundreds, thousands, working for a place under the royal family, including those who would kill just to get as far as she was now.

“No need for false sentiments.” He told her. “I meant to ask your reason for offering your services.”

She paused, looking now at the green-haired woman still behind the table, eyeing her blankly. Miss Chawla stood to the side, slowly moving to light her pipe, unheeding of the others in the room as she took a long drawl of smoke. From the bare interactions she witnessed so far, the prince didn’t much care for the usual suck-up practices that the common people had to snivel through in order to get an audience. He hadn’t much admonished Chawla for her words or attitude, so Kallen took a chance to drop the blank facade for just a moment.

“The same reason everyone else is here.” She told him bitingly. “So I can protect the people I care about.”

He smirked, and then turned his head toward the green-haired woman. “Well?”

She gave him a bland look. “That’s not my decision to make.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh at that response, but turned his attention back to Kallen and pulled an item off the top of the table, carelessly knocking several hardcover books eschew. No one in the room looked inclined to fix it as Kallen tensed at the heavy silver sword in the prince’s hand.

“Let’s do this traditionally, then,” he murmured, and then louder, said, “kneel, Cadet.”

Kallen went down to one knee eagerly, a fist to her heart and one resting against the ground in a bow as was the deferential posture for knights, although she still eyed the sword with some trepidation.

Six months ago, she never imagined herself kneeling for a member of the royal family. Britannia was the devil in her dreams, warmongering and elitist, filled with people who were complacent in the horrors of the world and who deemed themselves above all others just because of their heritage and selfish drives. The royal family was the most guilty of that.

No one anticipated the Blight and what it would do to the world.

The prince handled the sword gingerly, and slid the hand not holding it down the blade, tensing slightly as he drew blood on his thumb. Kallen had to resist the urge to flinch back as he reached for her, hesitating just a sliver of a moment before making contact with her forehead and smearing blood between her brows.

The contact was like electricity, jolting her like a sudden realization, a sudden connection to a flame she hadn’t known about before rising from deep within her. It was a darkness within, terrifying but filled with unknown power. A _connection_.

The so-called loyalty which allowed all knights to operate their Knightmares, whereas those not promised to a royal could steal as many Frames and power sources as they liked and still not make the machines move.

Reeling from the sudden— _openness_ to the world, Kallen barely noticed as the prince drew back, hefting the sword up to tap against her shoulders one after another with the flat of the sharp sword, carefully and with due ceremony.

“I, Lelouch vi Britannia,” he grimaced as the green-haired woman started to laugh at him in the background, “do hereby declare thee Sir Kallen Kozuki. Rise, my Knight, and go— do everything it was you declared earlier.”

“ _‘Everything you declared earlier,’_ ” the woman in the back mocked between giggles, “this is the absolute worst ceremony for a Knight of Honor I’ve ever witnessed. Shouldn’t you know all the vows by heart, _Your Highness_?”

To his credit, the prince looked properly flustered at that, dropping the sword back on the table as he stepped away from Kallen. “She knew the words. That’s enough. Besides, the last time I did this was years ago, and I didn’t expect to have to _repeat myself_.”

Years ago? But that couldn’t be right— she saw so many other knights here, piloting Knightmares and playing soldiers. And also— she gaped. “ _Knight of Honor_? But— and my name!”

“Didn’t you know the position you signed on for, girl?” the woman— Chawla— drawled and blew a breath of smoke in her direction, the tobacco making her nose itch. “I did say _ace_ . Do you think just any regular soldier Knight get access to my babies? Guren is more special than _that_.”

“Miss Chawla will show you your Knightmare,” the prince said, dismissing them as he returned to the map on the table, the green-haired woman once again leaning against his side. “And I’d appreciate if we start our meeting with the truth next time, Sir Kozuki. If you are to stay a Knight of Honor, then that will be more important than you know. We’ll talk after the battle.”

 

—

 

Miss Chawla was apparently _Rakshata Chawla_ , the ingenious and world renowned scientist working for the Black Knights. Kallen’s mind was whirling, half pleased by the acknowledgement of her skills and half angry at the supposed deception by the prince, as the woman drilled controls into her head, talking a mile a minute on regulations and methods and combination moves as she guided Kallen back towards the hanger, puffing a breath of smoke in her face whenever she thought Kallen was starting to drift away from her instructions.

“Do pay attention,” the scientist scolded, and then flicked her churchwarden pipe to the side, ashes landing randomly on the ground without care, “and just Rakshata. I’m not old enough to be _Miss Chawla_ , no matter what His Highness claims. That boy. He does this every time to annoy me. I suppose it can’t be helped. All of you are still children, after all.”

“Yes, ma’am— ahh. Miss Rakshata.” Kallen grimaced as the woman narrowed her eyes. “Rakshata.”

The woman blew a stream of smoke into her face and Kallen coughed. “Better.”

They approached a corner of the hanger, where a team of scientists were running schematics hooked on to—

“Oh,” Kallen breathed, taking in the Knightmare, painted a bright red with gold and black accents alongside a strangely elongated silver arm, looking wicked sharp as it ended in a claw. The machine was fierce and mysterious, and suddenly all those long hours in Knightmare simulators felt like it was all leading her towards here and now.

“My baby,” Rakshata boasted proudly, “the Guren, mark-two. You’ll have less than twenty minutes to familiarize yourself on the controls before deployment. I made it specifically to differentiate itself from the rest of those factory setting machines out there, so there will be a learning curve. But if that boy could learn the in and outs of _his_ machine within minutes, then I expect you to do the same.”

That boy—? Kallen didn’t have the time to question before Rakshata waved and one of the scientists opened the hatch in the back. “We’ll have a pilot suit ready for you next time. For now, this will be a test run. Knights have protection from the Blight, bolstered by their Knightmare Frames… I still don’t suggest evacuating the Guren in the middle of battle. You're new, after all.”

She gave a nod as Kallen climbed into the cockpit gingerly, noting that already even the seat was different from the simulations, forcing her to lean forward like a motorcycle rather than sitting back the typical Glasgows and Sutherlands, seating herself uncomfortably just as the cockpit moved forward and closed behind her, making her yelp in indignation.

Immediately the lights came on, powered through— she wasn’t certain. The machine must have sensed her presence, she though gleefully. It meant she was a _real_ pilot now, with real protection against the Blight, and if she did well, then protection that she could offer to her family back home.

_Naoto_ , she thought, _would you be proud of me, here and now?_

Rakshata’s voice was sharp on the speakerphone inside the cockpit, “Well? How does it feel, girl? Go ahead, try moving. The inhibitors are on, so you can’t blast your way out there, but we’ll be able to monitor your synchronization rates. You’ve got quite the shoes to fill and role to live up to if you want to be useful to the prince.”

She couldn’t care less about being useful to him, but the machine— the Guren— certainly made her feel lighter than air even as she tested the controls and buttons around her, letting her form settle into the strangely natural position that the seat pushed for.

“Oh, I’ll fill those shoes,” she boasted confidently as she heard Rakshata laugh outside, her voice echoing through the speakers and around her at the numbers that she was reading off her monitors, “I’ll blow them all out of the water.”

She couldn’t do any less, after all, not when she had so many people depending on her back home.

 

—  


Twenty minutes was _not,_ in fact, enough time to familiarize herself with a giant machine of war, a hundred and forty-two hours in in simulation beating the crap out of her classmates for the top score or not. But the Guren moved fluidly under her, and when the launch order came, Kallen had little problem lining up with the rest of the Knightmares, too aware of the curious eyes on her even as she switched her channel to receive commands from her current squad leader, who ended up being not a squad leader, but the boy she originally met.

“Karen, right?” The annoyingly cheerful voice filtered in through the speakers. “Guess we’ll be partners for this one! Don’t worry, you’ll be able to test the Guren out all you like, according to Rakshata! Welcome to the Black Knights.”

She frowned, unsure how to answer him, but eventually let out a reluctant and wry, “...thanks.”

“Departure imminent. Mission parameters: secure Base 0084, lure and destroy Blight Spectres. Team Orange, place charges. Team Black, secure perimeter fences. Weinberg and Kozuki, you’re on your own.”

Kallen ignored Gino’s, ‘wait, Kozuki?’ as she responded, “Acknowledged.”

The screen before her glowed dimly with the map of the surrounding area, the computer automatically selecting a route and targets for her to follow, even as she grinned wickedly at the thought of doing actual damage, _finally_ , and proving herself as not only the best pilot out of the Academy, but out of the Black Knights as well.

Not that they were a bad group— she had been blown away by the realization that this would be the group she would be joining at first, when the transport ship first came to pick her up. The Black Knights were renown through Europia as the deadliest force that Britannia could offer, serving under the Black Prince known only as ‘Zero’ and winning every battle they were put in for the past three years since their inception.

She was both disgruntled and outraged to learn that the great Zero was nothing more than a pretty boy her age who looked soft enough to be the type who belonged more in grand halls and parties rather than out in the frey. Kallen had been expecting a grizened and battle-hardened warrior of a commander who would step into the battlefield with her and the rest of the other knights, but it seemed she would once more have to content herself with disappointment.

The blue and red form of the Tristen— Gino’s Knightmare— shot past her as they left the base, and she could hear his laugh over her speakers as all the KMF units deployed toward the Blight zone outside the base, each team with their own mission parameters to fulfill with the except of two.

The silvery machines slid on the ground, nimble despite the heavy sucking mud that attempted to slow them down as they made their way through dense, blackened forests with wood tainted with black veins. Outside, the skies were even darker despite it being midday, and Kallen could now see shapes forming in areas where the sky met the earth, darkened wisps coming down from the clouds to settle onto the mud, which writhed in turn and formed shapes— figures that it pulled from the earth, typical of the way she read about in the Academy. Of the way she had seen outside of the Settlements.

She moved, and her Knightmare moved alongside her, right hand out with its deadly claws to swipe immediately at figures as she rushed past, ignoring the squelch of mud and blood, and the knowledge that the bodies would just rise again in time, thanks to the Blight. In the distance, she could see Gino doing the same, but so much faster than her and graceful thanks to his experience.

It was fine, though. This was a test run for her. The first time. She would do better than him soon enough, and earn her place as Knight of Honor.

The Blight never settled, travelling through air and earth and water to infect whatever it touched, to spread and corrupt with its tendrils of darkness enough through stone and walls, moving and controlling indiscriminately until it encountered an organic source.

It started small, like a bruise upon the skin— a distortion or discoloration that spread and spread, like ink in water, and within a week, anyone and anything touched by the Blight was taken over if not carefully quarantined and executed. Anyone they touched with the infected areas, in turn, also became infected. It was a deadly cycle, one near impossible to catch when the Blight infected objects as well, and could spread through plants and animals still. No settlement could prevent it completely, and the past five months had been Hell on Earth as many cities implemented extreme measures of immolation to prevent its spread, only to have the Blight strike again and again like a monster from the dark.

Six months since the first appearance, and Kallen managed to twist herself into knots to become someone else, compromising all her original ideals and goals in order to shift her focus on protecting the people she loved.

She yelled out her frustration as she watched more figures form in the mud, more shadows wisping down and settling, even as the ones she just managed to slice through started to reform again. They were clearing past the small forest, and the blackened forms seemed to be following them, out into the open, and out into roads fallen into disrepair as they approached an abandoned town with sparse buildings, none larger than two stories in height. 

She twisted, pushed her new Knightmare under the gears screeched underneath her, exhilarating in the newfound power she worked so hard for in the past three months, biting her tongue on every slight and insult others threw at her in the academy, playing the role of the perfect little heiress with a fascination and blind devotion toward royalty.

Disregarding the mud getting sucked through the servos on the bottom of the Knightmare, Kallen settled herself into the fight, letting all the tension and frustration from the previous months filter through to make her movements more powerful as she reached and crushed three figures at a time, releasing the safety and pressing the button to emit a surge of radiant energy that spread like lightning arcs along the mud, dissolving everything it touched back to dust.

Gino whooped over their shared communications, and she looked over the edge of her screen to see his Knightmare— barely a blur of color as he fought several paces away from her, moving as he— was that his frame capable of _transformation_? She hesitated a moment in her own movements, bewildered as she watched him transform his Knightmare from a humanoid fighting machine to something that looked like an aircraft, fluidly taking to the skies for mere seconds before he found his next target and dove like a bird of prey, transforming back to the usual Knightmare right before he hit the crumbling road, making the fall look seamless with no wasted movements as he drew a long sword and spun in an arc to take out a dozen of the mud figures at a time.

“Over here, Kozuki!” Gino called out cheerfully, his Knightmare waving her over in an imitation of his own movements, “Let’s not get in the way of everyone else, now. They’ve got an actual mission to pull off. We’re just here as distractions and to test you out in the field— not bad, by the way! You’re fast. Very aggressive fighting style. Close range. Think you could spare some time for me in the training rooms later? I’d love to gauge my own style against yours—”

She ignored him as he went on, only joining him away from the other Knightmares on the field, gritting her teeth as she realized that her movements were nowhere as fast as his despite being able to match her own simulation speeds. She wasn’t any _slower_ than normal, he was just that much _faster_ than her, and it grated. They made their way deeper into the town, the creatures of mud and shadow slinking along behind them, attracted to the movements and the violence as Gino and Kallen made short work of the forming figures, even if they would slowly rebuild themselves again after each cut and slice, slowly joined by more that came in from the forests as well. 

They kept moving, sliding from one street to another, Gino's speed and easy transformation between a land and flying unit luring in more and more creatures as Kallen exhausted her rage in the never-ending fight to keep the Blight Spectres down, testing each system as she went and refusing to question even in the safety of her own mind, why they were doing this. It was to fight back, after all. It was to show that they  _could_ , even if the spectres continued to reform without end. 

Another minute into her one-sided competition as she tested out each system, the comms overhead flared to life again.

“Team Orange, charges set. Retreating to rendezvous location set by Team Black. Weinberg?”

“Almost done here!” Gino’s voice called out over communications. “Kozuki’s a fighter! We ought to have this place cleared out enough in no time. ETA?”

“Three minutes and counting. His Highness is on his way.”

“Acknowledged. We’ll be done and out of here with plenty of time to spare, but just in case, you can tell Prince Lelouch that there’s no rush.”

“You can tell him that yourself,” the voice said, amused, before the line was cut off.

“Wait.” Kallen spun her Knightmare, testing the reaction speed of her land spinners as she jumped out of the way of a grasping spectre. Slower than anticipated, although not surprising with the mud still clinging. In a Knightmare— in the Guren— there wasn’t a hint of danger posed to her in the battlefield, it seemed. “He’s coming out here? What’s a prince doing coming out here for?”

“No mission briefing?” Gino questioned her a moment before he backtracked, “Right, you wouldn’t have the time. Uh. You’ve signed the NDA already, right?”

“Of course I have.” Kallen gritted out, stomping out several figures as they attempted the climb the leg of her Knightmare. “I wasn’t even allowed on base until I did. I wasn’t allowed on the _transport_.”

She didn't have a problem with it back then, having seen that she was assigned to the Black Knights. Of course she’d have to sign a non-disclosure, she thought, especially seeing as Zero’s identity wasn’t a commonly known one. To work with him meant that she would find out his true identity, but Kallen had been willing to swear loyalty to him out of all the members of the royal family just based on his past success record alone, not to mention he actively recruited men and women from the Areas to fight for him, valuing skill over blood.

She signed, and then eagerly read through the information given to her… only to realize it wasn’t much information at all. A name, basic information that included a birthday to tell her he was actually her age, and his place in the imperial family lineage. Zero’s earth affinity was already well-known, seeing as a good portion of his strategies before the Blight included upsetting the ground beneath his enemies.

As the Storm gathered above them and the spectres swirled in the air, the creatures crawling out of the mud were starting to become bigger and sturdier than before, almost fully formed rather than just limbs clambering on something too thin and rickety to be a body. Now, the creatures were becoming more tangible, some taking on various insect-like forms, and others flapping the beginnings of wings on their backs, made not of mud but of swirling shadows.

“Well, it’s— did you never question what we were doing out here?”

“Knights don’t question their sovereigns.” Kallen gritted out, the lines drilled through her head after too many acts of insubordination in the academy.

This seemed to throw Gino off a moment, although he continued his ever-graceful fight. “Wait, really? Is that what—? Oh boy. You’re in for a surprise, then. I mean. Yeah, definitely, you’re never to question what Prince Lelouch says in front of others, but he actually wants to know if you have something to say, you know. Most of the royal family do, that is. Ahh, well. You’ll find out soon enough. If you didn’t question it this time, I’ll let that be a surprise for you. Your three o’clock!”

Kallen swiped her right arm out blindly, feeling the give of a strangely grotesque and elongated creature dissolve under the surge of energy emitted by her Knightmare arm.

“...Thanks.” she said, begrudgingly.

“Don’t mention it— no, wait, do! About that training session I spoke of earlier…”

“Incoming.” Kallen interrupted him, watching as a much larger dot on her projected map zoomed in close.

“Crap, out of time. Kozuki! It should up up forty-five degrees, to your ten o’clock in your cockpit. Big blue button under clear class. You see it?”

Kallen looked up, frowning a moment until she saw what Gino was talking about, a blue button about the size of a ping-pong ball under clear class that she flipped up. “Roger.”

The halt in their movements meant that the creatures were once again swarming, smaller ones climbing up their legs alarmingly, and larger ones congealing together to form blobs of something that wasn’t quite finished yet.

“Count of three, push it. One, two, three—”

Kallen pushed at the button, and felt the Guren jerk as it emitted— a wave of energy, from what she could see, something echoed from Gino’s Knightmare, and then suddenly it was as if all the spectres had their strings cut, collapsing back into the mud like broken puppets, shrieking a long moment before it was entirely silent outside.

“That should do it.” Gino said, “now’s our time to get out of here.”

“But what about—?”

The dot on the map was right above them now, and Kallen braced herself and looked up to be greeted with the shadow of a large humanoid form, one she thought they’d have to fight for a brief moment before she registered the metal and shine of a Knightmare frame. It landed on the ground in front of them, the size twice that of normal KMFs, and Kallen boggled for a moment as the hatch behind opened, and Prince Lelouch stood from the cockpit, stepping out gracefully onto the shoulder of the Knightmare, followed by the green-haired woman Kallen had seen before in the room with him, her steps nimble despite her heels.

It didn’t make sense. Despite members of the royal family being unaffected by the Blight, it didn’t mean that the creatures that formed from it couldn’t easily kill them. And the death of their prince or princess meant that the armies following them would be defenseless.

Suddenly, Kallen was furious. This was worse than she imagined, hoping for a commander that would fight alongside her in a battlefield. This was a blatant disregard of his own personal safety— there was a huge difference between fighting in a Knightmare, one as large as the one he arrived in being one she imagined to suit a member of the royal family, and to expose himself intentionally to the enemy by leaving the safety of the Knightmare.

“Good job, Gino. Kallen.” Lelouch told them, his voice quiet as it was filtered in from outside, and the woman next to him said nothing at all, but rather eyed the entire area with distaste. “Make your way to the rendezvous and Rakshata will go over diagnostics with you. Gino, you know what to do.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” With that, the Tristen seemed to bow in a fashion and herded over to the Guren, speaking to her. “C’mon, Kozuki. Top speed now. We aren’t even supposed to be here when His Highness arrives.”

She had too many questions still, and it went against everything she knew to leave the prince behind in the battlefield, with the protection of his Knightmare or not.

It didn’t matter, though, as Gino grasped onto the Guren and dragged her along, the gears on the Tristen whirring ominously loud with the added weight.

“We’re just leaving him here?” Kallen demanded of Gino. “And what the hell was that button earlier?”

“Yes, and a kind of Blight-based Gefjun Disturber EMP recently developed. You’ll hear more about it later, but it only gives a few minutes, and takes enough out of our energy fillers that we won’t be able to use it again without recharging. _Move_ , Kozuki. It wasn’t a suggestion.”

He sounded far more professional now, enough to get Kallen to reluctantly follow along, pushing the limits on her land spinners just to follow him, although she turned her head back more than once as if she could see beyond the metal of her cockpit to where the prince and the green-haired woman was standing, still outside the protection of their Knightmare frame.

“We’re not seriously leaving him,” Kallen protested in disbelief, even as the distance between them grew. “We’re Knights of Honor!”

That _must_ be what Gino was as well, now that she was given enough time to watch him fight. With a machine like the Tristen, it wouldn’t be given to just any old foot soldier in the field. With transformative abilities like that, it was on par with the Knightmares built for the royals themselves. “You just said to question him!”

“Not when he’s _busy_ ,” Gino insisted, and then pushed the speed up a notch. “The Disturbers will only last so long— so haul ass, Kozuki. We need to get beyond the barriers before he starts. If you’ve got the energy for questions, then you’ve got the energy to pilot _faster_.”

They zoomed past the land, past the crumbling walls of what was once a town and back through the forests that separated this place and their base. There was an outcrop on a man-made hill where she spotted more than a dozen Sutherlands waiting, one sporting orange-gold embellishments, and another painted a more stealthy black.

The two of them joined the rest of the Knightmares, and Kallen turned on the common frequency to hear the chatter around them.

“You’re late,” a young, unimpressed male voice told them. “We wouldn’t have gone back for you if you were caught inside the barrier.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Gino’s voice waved the complaint away easily. “We’re here now! No harm, no foul.”

There was a click, and she could hear him on the direct line to her.

“We’re staying for the show. Turn your frequency to 0802. Maybe you’ll get a few of those questions answered.”

Kallen frowned, and then turned her screen to fiddle with the controls, drawing back only slightly as the entirety of her view screen was filled with light. “What is this?”

“Drone view.” Gino told her cheerfully. “Far enough away that it should be unaffected by anything we do. We go over battle footage most of the time, to see where we can improve. Cooperation is key in the Black Knights! Or at least I think it is. It sounds like a good line, anyway.”

She didn’t bother answering him, as the others hushed him and the light grew to a more acceptable level. The drone camera, it seemed, was zoomed in on the Knightmare that the prince arrived in, and she could see that he was still standing on its shoulder rather than inside the safety of the cockpit, although by now the woman with him was sitting on the other side of the Knightmare’s head, looking rather bored.

Whatever Disturber had been fired before, the effects were clearly wearing off, as the dark and shadowy spectres were on the move again, circling faster and faster to look for a host to control. Anything it could move, she knew, which made things like dirt and water an easy target when there were a lack of fauna in the area. It meant that Zero’s usual tricks with earth would do nothing against the spectres.

It meant that the royal family’s usual elemental tricks, outside of fire, would do nothing at all.

Prince Lelouch stared up at the skies with a frown on his face, hair swirling around his face as the winds picked up once more. Kallen watched as he raised his arms up, and—

Everything changed.  


—

 

Kallen Stadtfeld’s life changed when she was ten years old. Before, she had a childhood like any other, focusing on grades and impressing her parents— her mother in particular, since her father tended to be gone for months at a time, and following along behind her brother as he hung out with his friends. She lived in a modest home and had a modest amount of friends, and the only thing unusual was that she got exceptional grades and worked hard to be stronger than the other children. She was interested more in fighting and in bugs than she was in dresses and dolls. Kallen liked to wear her hair short, and preferred shorts and t-shirts like the ones that her brother Naoto had outgrown. Her mother used to sigh over her skinned knees but smile anyway.

And then in the summer of her tenth year, her father came home one day with a frown and told her that they would be moving. That she and her brother would have new names. Kallen would now be ‘Karen’, and Naoto was now ‘Nathan’. They would have to hide their mother and their heritage, and he was back to remarry to a woman who promised she wouldn’t reveal information on his previous wife and children.

Kallen managed to be furious over all of that for precisely two weeks before the first bombs were dropped in Japan. Less than a month after that, Japan surrendered its name, heritage, and nationality to be re-Christened as as nameless Area of Britannia, the eleventh since Emperor Charles took the throne.

Area 11 was only one in a long series of countries to fall to the might of Britannia and its wave of new Knightmares, technology only available to those who swore loyalty to the royal family.

Little tomboy Kallen Stadtfeld became the polite, demure little girl dressed in lace and silks known as Karen Stadtfeld, learning to curtsy and smile at her conquerors. She learned quickly to use makeup to hide any traces of her Japanese heritage, shifting focus to her blue eyes and red hair, a color combination so very Britannian that it meant no one would question the arch of her brow and the shape of her cheek.

“We got lucky,” she remembered her father once say to them, hugging both his children close to him even as they raged, “You both look… We can get away with it. We’ll be okay.”

Kallen remembered feeling like her whole world was crashing down around her, the very foundations breaking apart. She didn’t dare to look at her mother then, and she regretted it now. If her world had been falling apart by the change, then what had her mother felt?

Seeing the battlefield now in front of her, seven years later and newly sworn to a Britannian prince she barely knew, she felt a little like she was seeing a physical manifestation of how she felt that day.

The world was falling apart in front of her.

“I’ll never get used to it,” an unknown voice breathed through the communicators in quiet reverence.

On the screen, Prince Lelouch had his arms raised toward the sky, and the spectres of the Storm swirled around him, not close enough to be a danger, but very obviously revolving around him in a wave that looked faster and faster, more and more frantic as they tried to escape the hurricane but couldn’t. She couldn’t hear anything, but could imagine the sounds anyway, familiar with the shrieking of the Blight Spectres.

The woman with him was still sitting on the Knightmare’s shoulder, looking as calm as ever despite her long green hair whipping around her. She had a hand on the Knightmare’s head, perhaps to balance herself, and looked stable on her perch despite the high winds.

Prince Lelouch was moving, his arms lowering just slightly before gesturing to a side, head raised toward the skies although she couldn’t see his face.

“Wish we could hear,” another voice grumbled over the comms, and it was shushed quickly by others.

“If you could, you’d be dead.”

“The perimeter fences?” The voice from before, the one who spoke for Team Orange, asked.

“First layer holding steady. Second and third layers ready.” The voice was the young and unimpressed one, and Kallen spared a thought to wonder just how old he was. He sounded so much younger than her. “No problems so far.”

Kallen had the presence of mind to shut off her general communications, switching to a more private channel to ask Gino instead, “What’s going on?”

On the screen, the skies were swirling, dark clouds moving faster than before and pushing downward, and she could see the drone lowering as well to keep in visual range. The mud on the ground was moving, and the trees bowing to the winds. It was as it the world was being swept up in a whirlwind surrounding the prince.

Gino’s face appeared in a small box at the corner of the screen, and he looked rather— while not unimpressed, he looked as if this was a scene he saw on a regular basis. Just another everyday occurrence.

“Don’t you know?” He asked her. “His Highness is a _Liedmeister_.”

“Of course I know,” she snapped back, watching the events with wide eyes. Zero was well known for his control over the earth, although the power was mostly small and concentrated. He was precise with it, striking in manners that was devastating despite the limits of his abilities. Even what little he could do meant that he was a prime candidate for the Britannian throne, a contender amongst the royal children, with only a handful who inherited the Elemental Songs.

“This isn’t…” She _studied_ Zero, fascinated enough with the masked Prince’s movements and maneuvers to have looked up information. She watched videos of his previous battles. “This isn’t the the Song of the Earth.”

Not with the way the skies were reacting on her screen, but it couldn’t be the Song of Wind, either, not with the way the earth was responding. It couldn’t even be— both, not that she ever heard of such a thing, but from what she could see, everything around the prince seemed to be turning dark and settling now, crumbling and turning to ashes. Even the spectres, shadows though they were, were _dissolving_.

It felt impossible. Blight spectres could only ever be lured away, be halted, unless someone managed to trap them and set the entire place on fire. Fire was the one element they couldn’t wield, meaning that Princess Cornelia soon became the main force against the Blight.

On the screen, the prince was lowering his arms now, and the winds were starting to die down. She manage to catch a glimpse of his expression for just a moment, and… he didn’t look triumphant, or happy. Instead, he was flushed and frowning.

“It’s not Earth,” Gino confirmed for her.

When the winds died down, there was absolutely nothing left besides the Prince, the woman he brought along, and the Knightmare that carried them there. All around them, the remains of crumbling buildings were gone. Trees were gone. Rocks were gone. It was nothing but a crater, and even the spectres in the clouds were gone, leaving nothing but ashen, cloudless skies.

“It’s the Song of Destruction.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a problem in that I like writing, but don't like reading through my own works. Which means I typo a lot and have bad pacing and won't know it until I can force myself to sit down and actually (urg) look at what I typed. Inspired by Lost Song, and I know that series used the term Songstress, but I wanted something gender neutral sooo... Liedmeister it is. This one will be updated sporadically, since I don't have anything prepared in advance. You might spot some influence from Aldnoah and Noragami, too. Although it'll be explained more later. This is honestly just a quick introduction from Kallen's pov. Suzaku is next!


	2. A Beginning in All Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this chapter 3 times and floundered over the first few scenes for weeks before the rest of this just poured out in a few days. There's a lot of changed and skipped scenes, but... it's already 3 times the length of my normal chapters. Tried to answer a few questions, probably brought up a lot more, LOL. Next chapter should be Gino... or Rolo? Depends on what angle I want to tell the next part in.

****It seemed like everyone in the whole world knew about the Britannian royal family, and Kururugi Suzaku had been just as curious when he was younger— listening to stories of _miracles_ and the strength of their armies. The Divine Right of Kings, servants sometimes whispered when gossiping about the children to arrive at the household, meant that those meant to fight for succession would be given _powers_.

Some whispered that to have the mark of a Knight was to be one of the most powerful in the world.  
Suzaku thinks that there may have been a point when he was much, much younger— maybe Kaguya’s age! —when he fancied himself wanting to be a Knight when he grew up. More than just a knight of the empire, but a Knight of Honor, hand-picked by a chosen prince or princess. It was enough to get him enthused about his English studies, wanting nothing more than to see one of these so-called miracles up close and personal one day. He wasn’t stupid enough to say that aloud, though, knowing of the tense atmosphere that stayed whenever Britannia was brought up.

“Suzaku,” his father called him into a meeting on day after his lessons, tall and foreboding as always, enough to make Suzaku remember his manners despite his excitement over the rare moments he got to interact with his father. “We are to be hosting guests at the house soon. I want you to stay out of the way. Focus on your studies. With any luck, the _guests_ won’t be staying for long.”

“Yes, father,” Suzaku said properly, although his eyes were rounded with curiosity as Genbu dismissed him, and he had to uncross his fingers from behind his back before he turned around again, promising himself that he’d just work harder and faster so that no one would suspect anything if he suddenly had just a bit of extra time on his hands— just to find out about these guests that his father didn’t want him to know about!

All his imaginative plans came to a halt, however, as he was informed directly that his house was to host a prince and princess from Britannia, and that everyone would be called to greet them as was polite, although afterward, they were to ignore their royal guests.

“Do you think they’d sing for us?” Suzaku mused out loud as he and Kaguya were told to amuse themselves as the adults locked themselves behind screen doors to have serious conversations. They were to practice their calligraphy, although Suzaku would rather doodle images on the corners of his papers with his brush.

“Don’t say that,” his cousin told him, eyes wide with imagined terrors. She was still tiny enough that her lip was already wobbling with the idea that terrible things would happen. “What if they bring the gods’ wrath down on us?”

“They can’t do that,” Suzaku told her, decorating the sides of his paper with lines and stick figures rather than practicing his words, “everyone knows that the Britannians has _elemental_ songs. They don’t have power to call the gods.”

There were stories of raging firestorms, floods, earthquakes, and tornadoes, but Suzaku looked into it and found out the stories were nothing but legend. If the royal family really did have much power, then they would have shown it already, especially in their conquest of the last few Areas. It seemed that the power diluted down through the centuries until that even most of the royal children left didn’t have the power of song, and the few who did managed a few— little tricks, that would help them.

But it was still _fascinating_ and he wanted to see it!

“We’re not supposed to talk to them, anyway,” Kaguya said, turning her attention back to her calligraphy, concentrating hard on holding her brush the correct way as she shakily went through the motions. Her sleeves were long and dangling over the edge of her hands, smearing fresh ink at points. They just have fallen out from tie she was supposed to put them in.  “Everyone says Britannia is _dangerous_.”

That was true. Normally, Suzaku would have taken those words to heart, would have absorbed the lessons and proceeded with the caution that his father tried to impart on him, but tales of knights and magic? Everything else in the world seemed to disappoint him recently each time he learned that something he wanted to see wasn’t actually _real_.

He just had to know if the Britannians were lying, too.

Suzaku couldn’t seem to contain his excitement even as Kaguya scowled cutely at him from across the table, scolding him to ‘sit still!’ in a perfect imitation of what the adults usually said to them.

By the time the day came for the arrival of the Britannian prince and princess, Suzaku managed to contain his excitement and school his expression into something a little more blank whenever Master Tohdoh gave him suspicious looks, although he couldn’t hold it for long.

In another time, in another place, maybe Suzaku would have been extremely irritated at the fact that he now had to share his home, his hiding spaces, and the people he usually had the singular time and attention of unless Kaguya was hanging around.

Instead, his eyes widened with hope this time as he saw the prince and princess— kids! Kids just like him and Kaguya! —a little girl with sandy blond hair in twintails and a modest pink jumper dress huddled behind a boy who looked to be Suzaku’s age, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as she peeked out from behind him.

The boy was dressed in white, although his clothing seemed just as modest as his sister, with the familiar straight black hair Suzaku was used to seeing, but unusually violet eyes glaring defiantly at anyone whose gaze lingered on the little girl behind him.

Suzaku had to concentrate hard to stay still, listening in as his father greeted the Britannians in their native language, and Master Tohdoh continued the conversation to guide their new guests. He tried to translate the words in his mind with limited success, as they were speaking a little too fast for comfort. Maybe he should have paid more attention to his English lessons, although he was so sure he was doing pretty well…

He followed them around during the introductions, despite frowns from various adults and Kaguya tugging on his sleeve a few times before she huffed and gave up— but Suzaku didn’t let that deter him. It wasn’t as if anyone could tell him that he _couldn’t_ be there, not when he finished all his lessons and this was his house to begin with.

“Don’t do it,” Kaguya whispered to him, the little girl frowning and looking stern, “don’t make the gods mad at us!”

He was tempted not to answer her, but the group moved ahead, and several of the guards were looking especially irritated at the children following them, “But don’t you want to see it? Magic!”

“It’s not magic,” she told him, “it’s taboo.”

That just made him scoff and shake her off, “Then you don’t have to be there. Why don’t you go back to auntie and then the two of you can pray nothing happens? But I want to see if the stories are true. If they really are the enemy, then we have to know what they can do, right?”

Now that he thought about it, that should be true: so why was no one else bringing it up? If the prince and princess really were the enemy, then what were they even doing here? Or maybe this was some cunning plan to learn about the enemy concocted by his father?

But as Suzaku peeked into the room from behind the shoji doors, pressing low to the ground on his belly in an effort to remain unnoticed and his cousin finally giving up on him altogether, he couldn’t imagine that to be true. If it really was some brilliant plan to find out more from the enemy, then why choose a little kid like the princess? Even the prince looked his age instead of someone older and more knowledgeable.

He managed to wiggle a finger in between the doors to slide it open just the tiniest bit, dismayed to realize that he could barely see anything at all from this angle, and that the meeting still seemed to be in English and he _really_ should take his language studies more seriously…

There was a man sitting seiza blocking most of his view, but thankfully due to the low table and rather flat cushions, Suzaku managed to catch glimpses of the guests— or at least, flashes of sandy blond hair as the little girl seemed to shift uncomfortably, fidgeting and constantly changing the way she sat next to her brother, sitting on her legs in attempt to copy everyone else for only a few seconds before she seemed to get uncomfortable and then switch to stretching her legs out in front of her under the low table. Within a minute, though, she tired of that as well and eventually just crawled off her cushion and made her way over to sit right next to her brother, arms latching onto his side again.

Suzaku didn’t blame her too much— she only looked to be about Kaguya’s age, and she didn’t look like she wanted to be there, with the way she was making low, distressed sounds every few seconds until her brother wrapped an arm around her and she leaned up to whisper something in his ear, ponytail bobbing just a little in Suzaku’s peripheral vision.

He squinted, hoping that if he focused hard enough, he’d be able to see better. With the adults still droning on in monotone, and even the prince sitting as still as the rest of them, he startled when both the foreign children turned their attention on him, and he found unnaturally violet eyes staring at him.

Suzaku shut the door immediately, suddenly wondering if Kaguya was right about the gods.

 

—

 

He kept away for the next few days, doing exactly as his father ordered and playing the dutiful son whenever anyone was looking at him. In the moments he had alone, though, Suzaku sulked at his own reluctance and got angry at the thought of being _scared_ by the foreigners.

He wasn’t scared! Kaguya’s superstitions and mumble-jumbo just got to him for a moment, that was all. If push came to shove, he was almost certain he could take both of them on. At once, even. The prince didn’t look very strong, and the princess was still tiny and scared of everything.

He found himself trailing after the two children when no one else was looking, not even them, scowling as he watched them explore and play. Why did they get to do that, when he was stuck in lessons half the day and this was his home, anyway? He’s the one who should be playing around and exploring, not them. He’s the one who should be having fun, instead of having his whole summer ruined by the two of them because they were taking over his hideouts and his playspots and—

He watched as the princess tripped over a rock and scraped her knee, looking about ready to cry for a moment before she seemed fascinated by the blood welling up under her skin, staring teary-eyed for just a few seconds before she was up and running again as if she hadn’t fallen down in the first place. Seconds after that, he heard the prince yelp from where she tackled him, having been reading under the shade of a tree. They chattered for a while, faster than Suzaku could translate in his head, and eventually the prince seemed to relent, getting up and tucking the book away before offering to piggyback his sister, despite the fact that she didn’t look like she was in pain at all.

Not fair, Suzaku thought again, although some of the anger drained off reluctantly.

He sulked around the storage shed re-purposed to a back house where they were staying one morning, reluctant to attend his lessons, and peered in windows at the space that had been cleaned up for them. It wasn’t much, the unpainted walls and basic furniture rather shabby in light of the main house, and once again Suzaku found himself caught between anger and a roiling confusion in his gut.

He didn’t want them here! This was his place, his home, and his hiding spaces, and most of all— he wasn’t scared of them!

But as he watched the prince attempt to work his way around an old, rickety stove, he couldn’t help but wonder why they were there in the first place. The other guards and servants wouldn’t speak of it, but he wasn’t stupid. It didn’t seem right that they were forced to stay here, away from the main house, when they should have been guests of honor. When they _were_ guests. When Britannia was the vast, looming threat over the entire nation and his was the house hosting the prince and princess.

A week after their arrival, Suzaku finally gathered up the— anger? Discontent? Alongside handfuls of memorized words and intense language studies, and decided he had enough of ignoring their guests like his father wanted him to do. He was going to confront them, whether they, or anyone else, liked it or not!

His plans didn’t work as well as he thought, though, when he didn’t find either of them at the storage house. Suzaku searched around the place, and then tip-toed around the main house past the adults while pretending he wasn’t looking for the foreign guests at all, before finally out into the forests surrounding the estate.

Half an hour later than he expected, he ran across the foreign prince.

“You!” Suzaku shouted, pointed, ready for confrontation. The other boy was a bit dirtied, and who wore white while traversing through the woods? Suzaku paused once more at the sight of violet eyes turned his way curiously, taken aback once again before he stood taller because Kaguya was wrong, anyway, and he didn’t believe in the gods and even if they really were real, why would they even care about some foreigners? He opened his mouth to say more, still pointing at the other boy, but deflated and lost his words as the prince turned away. “Hey, don’t walk away from me!”

He studied all week to get this right, he wasn’t going to—

“I don’t have time for this,” the prince told him, and to Suzaku’s complete and utter surprise, it was in stilted and heavily accented Japanese, overly formal for his age. “Can talk— later.”

(What in the world did Suzaku study so hard in English for, then?)

Despite everything, his curiosity and astonishment won out over the blustering anger of the past week, and as the prince moved away once more, Suzaku found himself following, a little less irritated despite himself at the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one in language lessons.

“What are you doing?” He asked, stubbornly sticking to English, and he was sure that his accent had to be better, at least. The prince seemed to ignore him even as Suzaku jogged up, finally close enough to raise a hand and gauge that they seemed to be the same height, too. Except the prince was a pale wisp of a child, and he definitely didn’t look strong enough to even be out in the woods. “What are you looking for?”

The other boy made an irritated noise, not answering, but Suzaku was more than used to Kaguya’s whines about him bothering her to take it to heart.

“Bet I can find it,” Suzaku continued, although he wasn’t so sure about whether he used those words correctly. “Faster than you, too.”

This seemed to finally catch the prince’s attention, and he turned with a huff and a flush high on pale cheeks that made him look a lot more like a normal child than the aloof doll that had been hanging around lately, too composed and like a curse sent down by the gods. It only encouraged Suzaku to follow along, a feeling like victory rising at the sight of making the prince lose his cool composure.

“Go away,” the prince huffed at him, and Suzaku grinned in response, running ahead instead and then turning around so that he was facing the other boy and walking backwards, arms up and hands resting behind his head.

“No!” Suzaku told him cheerfully, and then repeated again, “What are you looking for?”

The prince only glared back, trying to ignore him, but the expression was weak and the dirt on his clothes was indicative of how long he’d been out wandering the forest already. At the slow pace he was going, it would only be a matter of time before Suzaku got his answers, and he’d be the one who won their confrontation in the end.

“I’m Suzaku,” he volunteered the information instead, knowing that the meeting a week ago hadn’t actually meant any names were exchanged. “What about you?”

He probably could have asked his father, but Suzaku was still trying to pretend that he was doing exactly as asked of him and staying away from their guests.

The boy gave him a suspicious look, and then relented, “...Lelouch.”

He grimaced at the mismash of sounds. Why were foreign names so strange sounding? Why not just easy syllables to pronounce? He pointed a finger at the prince, walking backwards still even as he attempted to sound out the name, “Ru… rushu?”

“That doesn’t sound anything like my name!” The prince protested, this time dropping the weirdly accented Japanese just for that protest.

“It’s not my fault it sounds so weird,” Suzaku told him, and then nearly walked into a bush. He had to stop, looking behind his shoulder just a moment to make sure there was still a path behind him as they continued on, and insisted, “Lulu, then!”

“No!”

“How come you’re here, anyway?” He ignored the protest, tucking his hands behind his neck as he continued his backwards trek.

The prince huffed, slipping back into his disjointed Japanese even as Suzaku stubbornly continued in English. “Looking for something.”

“Yeah, you said.” Suzaku told him. “But you won’t tell me what it is. And I don’t mean that! I mean, why are you _here_ . You know. How come you’re in _Japan_. Here-here.”

The other boy stopped in his steps, and Suzaku followed suit, waiting as Lelouch opened his mouth to respond and then seemed to think better of it, flushing with indignation. “...Why?”

“Because I want to know!” Suzaku told him bluntly. “Father won’t tell me anything, and I didn’t even know you knew Japanese. Do you know how hard I worked on my English lessons?”

That made the prince huff again, although this time he dropped the fragmented and accented Japanese entirely to tell him in English, “Well, you can stop, then. I understand you just fine. And your grammar is atrocious.”

Suzaku made a face. “Wait— what does that mean?”

“I can barely understand what you’re saying,” the prince told him, in English, although the words were slow enough for him to follow along. “I think it’s best if we both stuck to our respective languages for now. Just… slower.”

“Oh, fine,” Suzaku relented, switching back to the comfort of his native language. “When’d you learn Japanese, anyway? What are you looking for here? How come you and your sister are in Japan?”

“ _Slow_ ,” Lelouch insisted, and he started walking again, Suzaku keeping pace, although this time not backwards. “...and I started learning two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks!” Suzaku frowned, “You’re lying.” He had been taking English lessons for two years now, although he might not have focused too much on it when he didn’t have to, not until a month ago.

“Why would I lie?” The prince huffed, “That’s when they told us where we’d be staying. I didn’t know it would be Japan until then.”

There’s just no way, Suzaku wanted to say, that someone could learn enough of a language to understand it conversationally in just two weeks. That was what he wanted to say, anyway, although all he managed was, “Well, maybe you just don’t want to tell me!”

“Maybe I just don’t want you here.” The prince agreed amiably.

It made Suzaku bristle, but he pressed on, “Well, I know this place way better than you! You’ll never find anything this way, especially not anything you might have lost. What are you looking for, anyway? Is it something magic?”

The other boy gave him a strange look. “...There’s no such thing as magic.”

That wasn’t right— he was definitely hiding something, possibly because Suzaku was sure that no one would learn the word for ‘magic’ in another language unless they were interested in it especially. _He_ hadn’t learned it until he heard that there would be a Britannian prince and princess close enough for him to ask questions to.

“Ha!” Suzaku crowed, “You’re definitely hiding something! How do you even know that what I’m saying is ‘magic’?”

Lelouch only sighed at him. “Because it sounds close enough to the word in English.”

That made him pause and think about it, which in turn meant that Lelouch managed to pull ahead for a few steps until Suzaku ran to catch up.

“Okay, then that doesn’t count.” Suzaku insisted. “You still haven’t told me what you’re looking for!”

The prince huffed once more, shoulders drawing up a moment as he glared weakly. “Are you going to keep following me?”

“Yes.” Suzaku told him.

“ _Fine_. I’m looking for my sister. Nunnally.”

Suzaku made an inquisitive gesture, hands up at his head to mime the twin ponytails that the young princess usually wore her sandy blond hair in. “Is she lost?”

“She missed breakfast.” Lelouch admitted, eyes forward as he walked. “And I… she never misses breakfast!”

“Okay,” Suzaku said simply, “Then we’ll find her! She couldn’t have gotten far, anyway. It’s mostly just trees around here, and only one road to town. Maybe she went to the sunflower field!”

Lelouch furrowed his brows at that. “I don’t— repeat that?”

“Sunflower field!” Suzaku told him impatiently, and then translated into English, “ _Sunrise! Er. Sunrise sky— flower_ ?” He tried to gesture with his fingers. “ _Big, yellow_.”

“...Sunflowers?”

“ _Yes? Big field of them_.” Suzaku spread his arms to indicate how big it was, but then figured it’d be a better idea if he just showed the other boy instead. “Here, I’ll show you!”

He grabbed onto the prince’s hand the same way he was always told to hold onto Kaguya whenever the two of them were out at the same time, and then ran off, barely feeling the reluctant stumble and slower steps of the other boy. This was something he could do, and something he was familiar with, and if he helped Lelouch find his sister, did that mean that the other boy would—

Well, play with him, maybe. Suzaku had his fingers crossed for people he could lead around and show off all the best areas around his home. Kaguya stopped being impressed years ago, and was eventually told by her mother that she shouldn’t be outside under the sun doing things that little boys did, anyway. Apparently little girls were to stay under the shade and play with dolls and learn how to make tea correctly.

If they _really_ had to stay, anyway, then it would be okay, right?

“Slow down!” The prince protested, stumbling behind Suzaku and trying to wiggle his hand out of the tight grip. “You’re too fast!”

“You’re too slow!” Suzaku countered, feeling giddy. He continued to pull the other boy along down the forest path, although he did slow down considerably each time Lelouch seemed to almost stumble, and refused to let go.

He had to cut through a less trodden path in the forest, one with more undergrowth and roots and away from the beaten down earth, and he could hear the prince’s dismay behind him but Suzaku didn’t let that deter him.

It wasn’t too far away from where they had been originally, although by the time they came across the large field, the prince managed to wiggle his hand out of Suzaku’s grip and fell backwards to sit on a patch of wild grass, flushed and breathing heavily. Suzaku wasn’t even in the slightest bit winded, impatiently hopping from one foot to the next waiting for the other boy to recover.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he was saying, eager for the bit of freedom that came with being away from the household and it’s _proper_ manners all the time. “I bet she’s here! If you don’t hurry, I’ll find her first!”

“Wait—” Lelouch was struggling to his feet again, although he looked miserable at being pushed like this, moving on shaky limbs as Suzaku waited very impatiently.

It seemed that neither of them would be able to participate in the unwilling competition on who could find the princess first, as the sounds of little feet on slightly muddy dirt met their ears, and Nunnally appeared from the rows and rows of sunflowers, eyes wide and delighted, and with bundles of half-crushed flowers in her arms, thankfully much smaller than the stalks that seemed to tower over her.

She shouted with excitement to see them, her words far too fast for Suzaku to catch more than half of, something about a surprise and how bright the flowers were, even as she raced on unsteady feet toward her brother, who looked panicked for a moment before bracing himself as she jumped right at him, trying to throw all the flowers she managed to grab (root and mud and all) into his arms. The ones she managed to uproot were already over two feet tall but must have been some of the smallest in the field.

“And look!” She exclaimed, slowing down her words just enough that Suzaku could translate them in his head. She shoved her palms at her brother, beaming, “It scratched up my hands!”

He looked both overwhelmed and dismayed, fumbling with the slightly prickly flowers covered in leaves and roots that were dripping mud onto his white pants.

“I wanted to get the biggest one in the field,” she told him without a moment’s pause, already seemingly over the redness of her palms, “it was really big! Way too big, it wouldn’t move at all! I even fell when I tried— see?”

She indicated to a muddy portion of her dress gleefully, the mud already drying and dripping down her leg.

“I can help you!” Suzaku spoke up in English, already giddy himself with the knowledge that the princess seemed to be nothing at all like Kaguya. He thumped a fist against his chest, puffing up pridefully, “I’m really strong!”

The princess looked in his direction for the first time but didn’t seem startled, instead nodding quickly and responding with, “Okay!” before she darted back into the sunflower field.

Suzaku followed her happily, sparing only a glance at Lelouch to see him already setting the flowers down at the edge of the field, a little resigned but also a little fond despite the mud. From his expression, he’d follow along, but likely at his own pace and much slower than them.

That wouldn’t do, Suzaku thought, and doubled back a few steps to once again snag the other boy by the hand, grinning at the immediate protests, before he ran into the sunflower field to chase after the little girl in front of them.

It was going to be, Suzaku thought warmly as he chased out after a new friend before him and dragged another new friend behind, the most fun he’d have all summer.

 

—

 

Within the span of just a few days, the three of them managed to transform the dusty storage house given to the royal children as shelter into something far more welcoming, with Suzaku sneaking to see his new friends at every opportunity, bringing with him whatever he could: little candles and fairy lights, and brightly colored fabrics and old, worn blankets that Nunnally would rub against her face with glee.

“Why all the flowers?” Suzaku asked them the first day, and Nunnally responded with how beautiful the gardens at the Aries Villa was while Lelouch said quietly that Nunnally had trouble seeing things sometimes, and bright colors helped her focus.

They cleaned out lingering cobwebs and dust, and Suzaku taught the rapt siblings more of his language, sitting just a little taller and prouder atop the piles of blankets the three of them converted into a tiny fort inside the house, feeling awfully proud and important as Lelouch sounded out the unfamiliar syllables and Nunnally would repeat his words like a song, laughing even when Suzaku tried to tell her that’s not how the grammar _worked_ —

The little girl would sing with nonsensical words and phrases, the fear from when she first arrived all but gone as the storage house became a little more homey each day. The sudden immersion into English meant that Suzaku was learning the language at a much faster pace than previous years— he was far more motivated to memorize words when Nunnally would deliberately misinterpret him and then laugh about it.

If his father caught on to his little acts of disobedience, the man didn’t comment on it, although his stares were sometimes enough to bore through Suzaku’s skull, making him squirm guiltily. On the other hand, everyone else seemed to know and just sighed a little whenever Suzaku snuck out of the main house, very pointedly looking the other direction and commenting on various things like the weather or how surprising a certain block of birds looked.

His studies were going better than ever, and he didn’t think any of the adults had any right to complain.

A month after he started on his daily outings with the Britannian siblings, Suzaku decided that as a present for them being friends for a month (a whole month! He heard adults talk about that sometimes— celebrating months and years of knowing other people, and he wanted to be a part of it as well), he dragged the both of them through the forest, with both himself and Lelouch keeping a careful and tight grip on Nunnally’s hands as she frowned in the low light.

“Through here!” He told them, careful now to be a little slower and a little gentler as Nunnally tended to get nervous when the lights were dim, as she squinted in the shade of the forested path, and Lelouch was not very fast or strong, although he tended to fake it in front of his little sister.

Suzaku had to let go of Nunnally’s hand to crawl through an underbrush, although he came back a second later to grin at the dismayed expression on Lelouch’s face, by now far too used to how prim and proper the prince tended to be.

“What is it?” Nunnally asked, holding on tightly to her brother’s hand. She sounded curious but a lot more subdued than she normally was, eyes darting around and frowning.

“A secret,” Suzaku singsonged, reverting back to Japanese as he watched Nunnally crouch down carefully with her brother’s help, hand reaching out in front of her until Suzaku grabbed it, guiding her to the underbrush even as she tucked her skirts down carefully and Lelouch followed along behind her. “Even Kaguya doesn’t know about it!”

That was mostly because she never wanted to come out this far in the forest, and never wanted to dirty her clothes by crawling around in the dirt while Suzaku booed her from the side. Honestly, Lelouch would probably get along more with Kaguya if it weren’t for the fact that he shadowed his sister diligently, always there to clean up cuts and scrapes.

It was much harder than normal, attempting his journey backwards just so he could keep Nunnally within his sight and make sure she was alright, but Suzaku managed to wiggle through. There wasn’t that much space on the other side, the tiny clearing certainly not big enough for three children, small as they might be. He took a few steps down the narrow path backwards instead, waiting for the other two while he bounced on his heels.

Nunnally emerged from the underbrush and stood up, carefully dusting off her knees and the edge of her skirt, and then Lelouch appeared, frowning.

“Suzaku,” the other boy protested, “it’s really dark here. I don’t think we should—”

“It’ll be fine!” Suzaku reassured them, even as Nunnally seemed to hunch into herself a little more and plaster herself against her brother’s arm. He waved them down the path, “It’s not much farther, and then we’re there!”

“Nunnally can’t _see_ ,” Lelouch cut through, tone sharper this time. “It’s too dark here, and we might be fine, but…”

Suzaku _had_ thought of that, although admittedly, he hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight for the journey.

“I have a light, promise.” He said, and then frowned as well. “We just have to get there first!”

Lelouch looked like he wanted to argue, but instead just huffed after a second and started down the unsteady and tiny path with Nunnally tight against his side, quieter than Suzaku was used to. She tended to be such a cheerful and boisterous child that a few minutes of the silence started to make Suzaku feel guilty, although he wasn’t quite sure why.

The guilt just irritated him instead as they walked down the path, and the turned to see Lelouch sulking.

“You don’t have to come with me, you know,” he pointed out, not bothering to translate his words into English despite the fact that Nunnally was still struggling with basic conversation. “If you don’t want to come with, then don’t come.”

He just wanted to show them something _special_ to him, and it really should have been him who was reluctant and them who were amazed and willing to play along. That they weren’t, that they were scared and irritated, only manage to annoy him in return.

“But you wanted to show us something,” Nunnally spoke up before Lelouch could snap something back (and he looked like he wanted to), her Japanese silted and halting and grammatically incorrect. “So we wanted to come see!”

Her words broke through some of the irritation in him, and Suzaku hunched his shoulders a little as the guilt remained.

“I really did think of light,” Suzaku admitted, switching back to English. “It’s just already there.”

A tight squeeze on Lelouch’s arm had the prince calming as well, the situation diffused before it could get volatile with yelling.

“...Okay,” Lelouch said. “But we should bring that light with us when we go back.”

The three of them calmed as they walked the rest of the way, with Lelouch narrating their surroundings for Nunnally, commenting on plants and shapes of rocks and the moss on trees. It wasn’t too long before the path widened out a little, and Suzaku raced up a set of stone steps, worn to almost nothing with time, and waved them over as the thick trees parted just a little, enough for sunbeams to allow Nunnally to see again.

“Over here!” He called out excitedly, and then spread his arms out to present his hideout, a half mess of overgrown vines and broken down wooden boards that might have been a tiny shine at some point, except that point would have been lost in history as nature took the place back again. Suzaku had worked hard at fixing the door, although it was mostly just roping a wooden board into a semblance of an entryway.

Nunnally looked fascinated, although she was still squinting, and Lelouch just looked relieved that the journey was over.

“Welcome to my secret hideout,” Suzaku told them proudly, and then worked at pushing his makeshift door aside so they could enter. “No one else knows about it, you know. Not even Kaguya, or my father. None of the adults know this place exists— I don’t think they could get here even if they tried.”

It was true, with the path only wide enough to fit a child at most points.

They stepped inside, and Suzaku moved in the tiny space that his hideout provided (more of a burrow than anything else) to pull out several dirty cushions he prepared in advance for his guests, and the large and new three wicked candle that he managed to smuggle out from the main house for the very purpose of inviting Lelouch and Nunnally over to his hideout.

“Here,” he told them, holding onto the large and heavily encased glass before he set in between all of them as they settled. “See? I told you I thought of light.”

“I like this place,” Nunnally said, patting around with uneven surfaces with her hands, looking fascinated. “It’s like a magic cave!”

It was nothing like that, but Suzaku didn’t want to disagree with her.

“It’s like a super safe place,” he added for her sake, “where no one can find us at all. It’s my secret place!”

“You shouldn’t give your secrets out so easily,” Lelouch told him, although even he looked around with interest, violet eyes wide. “Secrets mean that you don’t tell anyone.”

“Well, that’s boring,” Suzaku told him, blowing a raspberry as Nunnally giggled. He sat down cross legged in defiance, even as Lelouch settled into the more proper seiza and Nunnally stretched her legs out in front of herself. “That’s not a secret at all, is it? That’s just a _thought_ . If you share it with someone, then it’s a _secret_ , because it’s something that you and someone else know, that no one in the whole wide world knows!”

“...That’s not what a secret _means_ , Suzaku.”

“ _Boring_ ,” Suzaku intoned, making Nunnally giggle again. “Besides— I wanted to share this secret with you guys, because you’re my friends!”

Nunnally clapped her hands together happily and told him with all the seriousness that a little girl could muster, “You’re our friend too, Suzaku!”

It made Suzaku smile wide, and he flushed a bit even as he rummaged around the box of supplies he stashed away in the hideout, muttering with embarrassment, “Matches, matches… where did I put the matches?”

He didn’t see as Nunnally nudged Lelouch, who only sighed heavily at his little sister.

“A secret for a secret,” the prince murmured, and brought his fingers to his mouth.

Suzaku may not have noticed that, but he did notice the soft humming, and looked up curiously when he realized it wasn’t Nunnally and her silly made-up songs again. He froze in his actions, not wanting to detract from the quiet and low words that he couldn’t decipher, watching as Nunnally smiled and drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them as she settled all her attention on her brother.

There was a red glow, like warmth, like an invisible breeze blowing through his hair, and Suzaku could see Nunnally’s bangs flutter under the shimmering haze of red, barely there at all. He would have thought it imagined if it weren’t for the fact that it was lighting up the tiny shelter even as Lelouch started to sing.

It was almost funny how much he sounded like his sister when he sang, or maybe it was because Nunnally was the one imitating him the whole time, but his tone was sweet and clear, quiet in this setting and slightly muffled by his fingers. Suzaku didn’t know the words of it, but he listened raptly as Lelouch sounded out syllables and tunes barely above a whisper, his voice clear and lilting in youth as he was alit by glimmering waves of red that seemed to tousle through his hair like sparks.

When the prince brought his fingers away from his mouth, there was a small but steadily flickering flame hovering just above his fingertips, tiny but bright, and he cupped it with both hands and leaned forward to bring it toward the candle wicks, which caught fire immediately even as the flame disappeared from his hands, as if they were jumping from one place to another.

The red haze slowly disappeared as Lelouch stopped singing and the fire grew stronger on the candle, taking with it the breeze and the feeling of warmth seeping through his bones. As the light grew brighter, Nunnally sighed happily and leaned to wrap her arms around her brother’s ribs, even as Lelouch seemed to come out of a daze, looking down at his sister a moment before violet eyes flickered up to Suzaku, who was staring at him wide-eyed and spellbound.

The boy flushed darkly, squirming a bit under the attention and looking away before he sputtered out, “Since you shared a secret with us! Since you— you asked about it before, and… don’t tell anyone, okay! I’m not even supposed to know, I just overheard Cornelia trying to teach the song to Euphie before…”

“You can teach it?” Suzaku asked eagerly, leaning in toward the siblings until his face was mere inches away from Lelouch, making the other boy yelp and lean back with a deepening flush, and nearly knocking the candle over with his eagerness. “People can learn it?”

“You can’t do either,” Nunnally was the one who answered Suzaku cheerfully, even as Lelouch looked away with embarrassment at the sudden attention. “Well… I guess that’s not true. You can teach the _song_ , but it won’t do anything at all unless you have the skill. But anyone with the skill already knows the song, because it’s like— something that gets stuck in your head.”

Her voice lowered conspiratorially, and Suzaku turned to her, eager for more information, “Mother said that Lelouch managed to destroy an entire side of the garden once, and she had her guards cover it up to make it look like an accident—”

“Nunnally!” Lelouch protested with dismay. “One! _One_ secret!”

His sister giggled, and then mimed zipping up her lips, smiling up at him angelically.

Lelouch turned his attention to Suzaku, embarrassment fading away into seriousness, “...You can’t tell anyone, though. Even Mother didn’t— she kept it a secret. She didn’t tell anyone, and there’s a reason for that.”

Suzaku nodded eagerly, and then imitated Nunnally as he mimed zipping his lips shut, the effect ruined entirely as he tried to do so with both hands. “You can count on me! I won’t tell anyone.”

 

—

 

To Suzaku’s immense credit, he managed to wait a _whole week_ before he asked again. And he made sure that it would just be just the three of them, early in the morning after his lessons with Master Tohdoh. He wanted to wait until the siblings were willing to talk about it again, but it seemed that if he wouldn’t bring it up, then they never would.

So, early in the morning one day, barely after breakfast and his morning practice, Suzaku holed himself up in the storage house with the other two, pulling all the windows tightly closed before he blurted out, “Teach me the songs, too!”

Lelouch looked skeptical, although Nunnally, true to form, immediately raised an arm as if volunteering herself, and chirped, “Okay!”

“You do know that they’d just be… songs, right? Just music?” Lelouch asked him in concern, “It won’t actually do anything.”

“You never know!” Suzaku told him cheerfully. “It’s not some national secret, is it? You can teach me, right?”

“It’s not a secret at all!” Nunnally told him, bouncing from where she was seated, wiggling with excitement at the idea of being able to teach Suzaku something when he had been the one teaching the two of them before. “Most people don’t know it, but all the knights do! They all have to learn the songs, _and_ they all choose an instrument to learn! There’s so little music here, it’s strange!”

Suzaku never thought of it that way, but suddenly Nunnally’s little traipse through song whenever she was learning made a lot more sense.

“And it’s not always the same from person to person,” Lelouch told him, as Suzaku seated himself eagerly at their little table by the improv kitchen area, with bright morning light streaming in through the windows to reveal dust motes in the air and highlight the bright sunflowers placed everywhere. “A previous generation’s Song of Water, for instance, might not be the same song as the next generation’s. Some things stay the same, of course, but if the songs were traced back for a few hundred years… well, they’d all sound really different.”

“Then how does it work?” Suzaku asked, sitting on his hands to keep himself from fidgeting in curiosity. It didn’t help that much, and Nunnally grinned at him as she wiggled as well.

“I could give you a history lesson on that,” Lelouch volunteered, but Suzaku grimaced at the idea of more verbal lessons, “...but I don’t think you’d be very interested. And it wouldn’t make a difference, anyway.”

“Teach him the songs, teach him the songs!” Nunnally changed, eager to hear music again.

“I don’t know all of them,” Lelouch admitted, and looked down slightly in embarrassment at that, as if he should by now. “I wasn’t even supposed to hear the Song of Fire. Like I said, all our… Songs, are different.”

“But you said someone was trying to teach someone else that song,” Suzaku said.

“I think Cornelia was just trying to spark something in Euphie. Personally, I think if Euphie can Sing, it wouldn’t be the Song of Fire. And Mother…” Lelouch’s expression grew pained for just a moment before it smoothed over, before Nunnally could look his direction, “Mother used to sing the Song of the Earth to us. She was our Father’s Knight before she was an Empress, and the Emperor’s song is Earth, so she knew that song best, even if it was nothing but words and a tune to her.”

“That’s two songs!” Suzaku said, excitement not dimming but smoothing out to match Lelouch’s skepticism. “I’ll learn two songs!”

“No, no, no, _no_ , no,” Nunnally insisted, staccatoing her words as she slapped her palms against the table to grab their attentions, “Don’t just focus on the elemental songs! Other songs are important too, right? Teach him our songs, too, not just the Song of Fire!”

“Your songs?” Suzaku echoed.

“Yes!” Nunnally nodded, grinning. “I don’t have an elemental song, but we have _our_ songs!”

“We do,” Lelouch agreed, sounding adorably abashed. “It’s not what you’d expect, but…”

“Sure, I’ll learn your songs, too!” Suzaku told them, watching as Nunnally clapped her hands cheerfully and Lelouch seemed to flush. It was adorable, and he wished he and Kaguya had been close enough to make up songs together when they were younger.

“Don’t regret it,” Lelouch told him, “if you want to learn, you’ll have to do it properly. Not just the melody, but harmony and beat…”

“I can do it,” Suzaku told him, grinning at the other boy.

“Even if it’s not an elemental song, and it does nothing in the end?”

Suzaku thought about the years before, younger and curious about the magical abilities that the Britannian royal family seemed to hold. He wanted so badly to learn about their Songs even back then, wanted to know if it was real or not because while other people might claim witness to fantastical stories, he had never before seen it with his own eyes or even on video. It was like being told that horses could fly, he thought, and then being disappointed later.

Now, he had a chance to learn the actual songs the rest of the world revered.

“I won’t regret it,” he confirmed, and that brought Nunnally halfway across the table as she attempted to stand on her knees in her chair and lean across to catch their attention. “So don’t regret teaching it to me, okay?”

Lelouch gave him a wry smile that looked too tired on his childish features. “So long as you don’t go around telling people…”

Suzaku mimed zipping his lips again, although he admitted after, “We should probably come up with, uh, code words for it, then. In case people ask. Or we need to talk about it outside.”

“Oh,” Lelouch told him carefully, “I have something much better than that.”

 

—

 

Two and a half months after the arrival of the royal children, and Suzaku was sure now of the path his life would take him down. He spent as much time as he could get away with besides Lelouch and Nunnally, more attentive now than before knowing that he wasn’t the only one with something to teach, with his own secrets to show off and his accomplishments to gloat over. He helped as Lelouch learned to cook, learned to clean, and snuck out band aids when the prince first attempted sewing, wrapping them tightly around the other boy’s fingers to stem the the tiniest pricks of blood.

The two of them would play under the stars when Nunnally stayed home with the lights all on, too scared of the darkness outside to leave with them. They would take the little princess with them during the day, though, and show her the brightest areas around— sparkling streams and clearings with bright summer flowers surrounded by dappled shade.

Soon enough, outside of his meetings with his father, Suzaku would excitedly talk to everyone he could about Lelouch and Nunnally: in lessons with Master Tohdoh and Master Kirihara where he regaled the amused men about the little princess’s exploits, climbing trees higher even than Suzaku dared, and bragging to Kaguya when she visited about how far he was in learning the sign language that Lelouch was coming up with between the three of them.

For the most part, everyone around him indulged him of slight infatuation with the siblings, fondly looking the other way when he brought Nunnally bright wildflowers and tried to bundle Lelouch in his clothing.

For his part, Suzaku found himself settling into line with the prince and princess, carving his own spot in with them. When Nunnally wrapped her arms around her brother’s ribs, Suzaku would wrap Lelouch up in a hug around his shoulders, and they would laugh when Lelouch tried to protest being suffocated between the two of them. When Lelouch rapped his knuckles on Suzaku’s knee to silently make him stop sitting cross-legged and make him tuck his legs underneath him in proper seiza style, Suzaku refrained from mocking him just long enough to be amazed as Nunnally unconsciously mimicked their posture when before she had been sitting with her skirt sprawled wide.

“You could be the next Emperor of Britannia one day,” Suzaku told Lelouch in the dark of the night, having long since given up the comfort of his own bed just so he could spend more time with his friends. If they could sleep easily on the meager futons provided for them, then there was nothing to say he couldn’t do the same. “And I’ll be the next Prime Minister of Japan!”

“It’s not that easy, Suzaku,” Lelouch told him, voice hushed as they lay there in the dark, one arm wrapped around Nunnally as she slept soundly with an arm thrown across her brother’s ribs.

“Isn’t it?” Suzaku asked, turning in his futon to face his friend, staring in the low light of the single candle still left burning, the wax dripping down on the little cracked plate it was placed on.

Lelouch was staring up at the ceiling, lost in thoughts Suzaku couldn’t follow. “I have a lot of siblings.”

“Yeah?” Suzaku agreed, not understanding why that would make it any harder for Lelouch. “And how many of them can Sing? You can only, uh— _contest_ the throne if you can Sing, right?”

“Good job,” Lelouch told him for the English use, and Suzaku beamed. “And you’re right, but… it’s a secret, remember? I’m not supposed to let anyone know.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” Suzaku told him. There were already stories on the news about Princess Cornelia’s skill with fire, and Prince Schneizel’s mastery over air, but Suzaku was willing to bet that Lelouch would be better than the both of them when he was all grown up, because if there was anything Lelouch was truly bad it, it was being told that he couldn’t do something. “Why should it be a secret? Aren’t you supposed to be proud of it? I could help you, you know. I’ll help you defeat your siblings for the throne. There’s nothing we can’t do together.”

He was sure of it, more sure than he was of anything else in his life.

Lelouch turned his head to look back at him, and in the flickering candlelight with his spill of overly long dark hair framing his face and tentative smile, Suzaku suddenly felt like someone managed to punch him in the chest, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

“Yeah,” Lelouch told him, still with that small smile, “you’re right.”

Suzaku found that he couldn’t answer, and he couldn’t understand why. For a moment, he just stared, and then flushed as he made a pitchy sound low in his throat, catching Lelouch’s sudden concern for the briefest moment before he turned around entirely in his futon and pulled the covers over his head, curling up and only managing a squeaky, “Good night, Lelouch!”

“Suzaku…?”

But he didn’t move, one hand clenched tightly to his blanket to keep it securely over his head even in the summer heat, and the other hand at his chest, wondering why his heart was racing like he had just run through the entire woods in under a minute. His eyes were wide under the darkness of his blanket, and Suzaku held his breath and mentally counted out the seconds until Lelouch seemed to give up on getting his attention. He listened as the prince reached over to blow out the candle, and then called out a quiet (confused) good night in return.

He must have waited a good half hour— or at the very least, a whole ten minutes, before he emerged from his blanket, flushed with warmth and gasping with the need to breathe after being stuck in the ever-increasing warmth and humidity of his blanket. Luckily, he could look over and see under the dim moonlight that both Lelouch and Nunnally seemed to be fast asleep, curled up together and making him itch to join them.

He didn’t, although he did scoot his futon the tiniest bit closer in the already small space, and then stayed awake a lot longer into the night, wondering what in the world just happened.

 

—

 

The heat of summer stretched all the way into early October, bringing warm summer rains and scorching hot afternoons that had the children retreating from the sunlight, too hot to play outside. It also meant that Suzaku had been wheedling the adults to let him attend an early-autumn festival, hopefully with both Lelouch and Nunnally in tow, if only because he wanted badly to show them the bright lights and taiko drums as well as indulge in festival foods.

He wanted to wrap them in the soft fabrics of his culture and take them to shrines for prayers and fortunes. He wanted to hang masks around their heads and take them to the fireworks and lay on the grass to enjoy the last of the summer heat, and then have them stay until he could take them to the temples for New Years and ring the bell with them.

He wanted all these things, but Master Kirihara said that he would only be allowed to go if he got permission from his father, so Suzaku was gearing himself up to ask, because he hated the thought of having to ask for anything from his father at all.

He only meant to wait a minute outside his father’s office, to gather his confidence and arrange his argument in the way Lelouch told him to: to have points and reasons why a decision was good or bad. Suzaku was mentally tallying the arguments to convince his father that he should be allowed this when— one, his grades had been spectacular all summer, and that interacting with the siblings meant his English improved tenfold. The games Lelouch liked to play were great for critical thinking, and helping to take care of Nunnally was also giving him life skills he would otherwise never manage to learn so young—

“That’s right,” he could hear his father on the phone inside the room as he leaned against the wall and tried to line up all his reasoning for being allowed to go with his friends. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, hadn’t even been paying attention the conversation inside at all until the familiar names were dropped. “If that’s what it takes. I have two, after all. You can guarantee it?”

There was a moment of silence, and Suzaku fiddled with his fingers, wondering if he should come back another time. His father didn’t sound _mad_ , per say, but there was something hard in his tone that hinted he might not want to deal with what he considered to be frivolous matters.

“Damn Britannia,” Suzaku heard from inside the room, and he was about to step away and wait for another time when, “it doesn’t matter if you want one or both of them. If you can get me the working Knightmares, then I’ll personally deliver the little girl’s head myself.”

Suzaku froze, eyes wide.

Inside the room, his father laughed, but the sound was grating and dark. “You’re talking to me about courtesy? Why bother to address them by title when you’re the one who wants them dead and delivered to you? …Fine. In contract, then. You do this for me, and I will deliver you _Princess_ Nunnally. It won’t matter if Britannia tries to invade— the Japanese citizens will fight to every last man and woman. The Knightmares will help us— with that technology at our side, we’ll kill more of those bastards. Whatever they’re looking for in Japan, they won’t find it. I’ll burn down every last man, woman, and child before I let Britannia take this country alive. _Long live Japan_.”

There was a dark chuckle at the response on the phone. “Pride? I daresay it’s more than that. I won’t take this treatment lying down. Give me the Knightmares, and I’ll give you the girl. Double the amount, and I’ll even throw in—”

Suzaku slammed the door open, nearly breaking the shoji screen in his haste and strength.

He tells himself he doesn’t remember what happened after that.

 

—

 

“ _We have to go_ ,” Suzaku told Lelouch and Nunnally as he rushed to the storage house where they were staying, his English much improved in the past few months, enough that he could hear it himself. He wasn’t yet fluent, but his grammar was better and his accent a lot lighter, and—

It didn’t matter. He barged into their home and started grabbing clothing and supplies, having already packed up a bag from his own room, half stuffed with clothing and half stuffed with foods that he managed to take from the kitchen.

“Where’s your bag?” Suzaku demanded, glaring as both Lelouch and Nunnally stood off to the side, the both of them wide-eyed and slightly scared as they were interrupted from the math lesson Lelouch was trying to teach Nunnally.

“It’s…” Lelouch hesitated before he continued, “It’s underneath the coat rack— Wait, Suzaku, what’s going on?”

Suzaku didn’t stop to answer, instead diving already for the pile of stuff underneath the coat rack, shoving things aside until he found the slightly worn and ragged bag he had given Lelouch a while back for the both of them to practice mending, having patched up a small hole on the side with a bright sunflower shape for Nunnally to inspect. There was another, smaller side bag that the both of them made for Nunnally with worn down quilts, the stitching a little weak and unfinished, but still soft and bright enough to make her smile.

He stuffed that side bag with an armful of Nunnally’s clothes, still neatly folded from when they had been pulled off the clothing line, and then mentally discarded the rest of Lelouch’s side of the laundry. They were the same size, he could share Suzaku’s clothes, and that would make room in the bag for other things— important things, like… like a first aid kit, a blanket, a towel…

Nunnally must have sensed his panic and determination, because she stepped up and accepted her side bag gingerly, seriously, hands slightly shaking even as she asked, “But where are we going?”

“ _What is going on?_ ”

Lelouch’s demand was haughty and frightened, and Suzaku shook his head, bangs in his eyes before he swiped an arm angrily across his face, trying to find the correct translation in his head before giving up and slipping back into Japanese, “Knightmares. Invasion. There’s— I’m—”

He hadn’t realized he was shaking until he felt Lelouch’s steady hand on his shoulder, the other boy shushing him gently for a moment, the same way he usually did for Nunnally, before directing his sister, “Nunnally. Your boots. The ones that are comfortable, not the pretty ones. Your hat, too, the one for rain, and a jacket with as many pockets as you have, and extra socks.”

The little girl gave a word of agreement and set off to find her things, bag already slung over her shoulders.

“You have your things packed?” Lelouch asked him, and Suzaku just managed to nod numbly. “Okay. Okay. We’ll… we’ll figure things out.”

The prince straightened up, looking for all the world like he was in control of things despite his rounded face and short stature of childhood, combined with the boyish sailor top and calf socks.

“Whatever it is, can you talk to anyone about it?” Lelouch asked, and Suzaku shook his head, unbelievably grateful to have Lelouch take over. “What if we just went to your hideout? Is this something that you think might blow over in a few days?”

Suzaku paused, and then shook his head again. “...We can probably hide there, though.”

“But it’s not by any sources of fresh water, so we’ll have to leave eventually.”

Suzaku didn’t respond, but from the look on his face, Lelouch seemed to relent after a moment.

“...Alright. A few days there, then, that will give us time to figure out where to go next. Do you have a map? We should take one with us, just in case.”

Suzaku nodded. He had packed one into his bag, one he acquired a while ago only because he wanted to be able to show his friends new places. He didn’t have that much experience wandering around either, not too far away home, anyway.

“We’ll take as much water as we can. It might get heavy.”

Suzaku watched his friend carefully, and then nodded to himself.

“I’ll take it,” he said, “I’m strong.”

 

—

 

They made it out thanks to the resulting commotion in the main house, all three of them carrying as much as they could physically manage for the three hour hike that would take them to Suzaku’s hideout. He didn’t allow himself to think the entire way, instead holding onto both Lelouch and Nunnally’s hands as they walked, and Lelouch worked on erasing their tracks behind them once in a while, sweeping behind them with a large frond they pulled near the stream and then shifting leaves atop the path.

It took them almost twice as long to get to their destination, and at one point when Nunnally needed to sit down for a moment a drink some of the water they took with them, Suzaku asked, “Why?”

Lelouch didn’t look up from where he was sweeping their tracks away, sweat on his forehead from both the heat and the exertion, but he looked determined and effulgent rather than the exhausted that Suzaku was expecting.

“Because we trust you.” He said, and Suzaku didn’t ask again.

Nunnally, for a change of pace, this time clung to Suzaku instead of Lelouch, her arms wrapped tightly around his ribs whenever they sat down in a meager attempt to provide comfort, even if it did make the two of them even more uncomfortable in the sticky heat.

They settled into the hideout by nightfall, and fell into an exhausted sleep mere minutes after they set all their stuff down, although it made the time space even more cramped.

Suzaku woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, heart racing with an unknown terror, only to find himself squished between Lelouch and Nunnally, the royal siblings curled around him and having tossed the blankets off in the heat.

The three of them were dirty and, from the gnawing feeling in his stomach, had to be hungry as well. As Suzaku stared between the two of them, he felt himself justified.

 _I’ll personally deliver the little girl’s head myself_.

He hugged Nunnally closer, and then did the same for Lelouch.

_Double the amount, and I’ll even throw in—_

With Nunnally’s warm breaths near his collar and Lelouch’s against his cheek, Suzaku willed himself back to sleep and prayed to the gods that he wouldn’t dream.

When he woke again, it was morning, and it was only Nunnally curled up against his side, although she seemed restless and was elbowing his spleen lightly from time to time. For a moment, he panicked, sitting up straight and eyes wide until he spotted Lelouch outside of the hideout, having dragged over several larger stones for makeshift seats. He had apparently made a rudimentary makeshift pit for a fire with the small pot they managed to grab with them atop the small flames, stirring it with a stick.

He got up, crawling over Nunnally when the little girl starfished her limbs in her sleep to kick against his thigh, and pushed out the makeshift door, the ropes a little looser than before from usage. Suzaku stumbled outside, taking a moment to find his balance again before he made his way over to Lelouch and plopped down on the same rock as the other boy, wincing a little in pain.

“Good morning,” Lelouch told him with a smile, and handed him a mug of something… that didn’t smell quite right. Seeing his look, he elaborated, “It’s oatmeal. Although it’s just cooked with water, but we don’t have a lot of flavoring… it’s either this or rice, and I figured we should at least change things up for one meal a day.”

Personally, Suzaku would have preferred rice over the watery… oatmeal, but his stomach was twisting on him and demanding food, so he made a face and drank the whole mug in one go, making disgusted noises the entire time.

Lelouch looked exasperated when Suzaku looked up again with his tongue out as if he could get the bland taste as far away from his body as physically possible.

“It’s not that bad!” The prince protested.

“I don’t like it,” Suzaku told him plainly, still sticking his tongue out despite the difficulty that made for talking.

Lelouch huffed. “Well, you can cook if you want. We might have brought along some dried fruits to go with it, but you’ll have to deal with this for now.”

He looked so sullen there that Suzaku couldn’t help barking out a laugh and wrapping his arms around Lelouch’s shoulders, leaning down to rest his forehead against the boy’s neck as he laughed and laughed at such a simple thing, and before he knew it, the laughter faded away into tears and hiccups, and Suzaku didn’t know why he was crying, he always thought that crying was stupid and girly, and—

Lelouch wrapped thin arms around his back, gripping tightly, and Suzaku wailed.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, although at some point the fire died off and another pair of arms, smaller, wrapped around his ribs and warmth pressed along his back.

He didn’t want the oncoming war, and Suzaku didn’t want to see the Japanese people die down to the last child to fight in a conflict none of them even wanted, because of their _pride_ , or the tatters of it. He didn’t want to believe what he heard his father say, and he didn’t want the future (the shining future he thought he would have, just a day ago) to come.

But if he hadn’t done anything… if he hadn’t done anything…!

He wouldn’t be surrounded by this warmth, he knew, and he wouldn’t be surrounded by two people who in such a short time came to mean the entire world to him. Was it so wrong that he just wanted to keep them safe, because even if war was a horrible concept and other people dying was a horrible concept… what Suzaku couldn’t stand was the idea of it hitting so close to home, so close to changing his entire life.

“It’s going to be okay,” Lelouch was saying, voice soft and low, with one hand in Suzaku’s hair. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

—

 

Three days after they ran away, fire fell from the sky.

Or at least, that’s what it felt like, with the heavy noise of planes deafening as they flew past, even with the three of them huddled inside the hideout, and even then they could see the shadows of great ships in the sky racing past, and feel the rumble in the earth as bombs were dropped, and Knightmare Frames loosened onto the land.

They could see the explosions blooming out from where they were, in the direction of the Kururugi Shrine, and Suzaku felt Nunnally bury her face against his side rather than watch, even as Lelouch’s grip on his hand tightened in anger.

“Maybe it was just off to the side,” Suzaku suggested, although he didn’t hold high hopes for his childhood home.

They hid for another two days, conversations quiet as the sound of more planes flew by. They were too deep into the forest to hear whatever violence must be going on in the outside world, but there was a suspicious lack of birdsong and the sound of bombs were far reaching. Two days after the initial invasion, and the three of them ran out of water without a plan for what to do once they were forced to leave their little shelter.

“Maybe we could go to the soldiers,” Suzaku suggested dully, but Lelouch just shook his head.

“They bombed your home first.” The prince said, and that was that. Britannia would not give them any leeway just because they were children, or even because Lelouch and Nunnally were a prince and princess of the Empire. The soldiers must have known where they were staying, and the bombs dropped anyway.

They were low on food as well, but it was water that was the main concern. Their clothes were dirty, and they were dirty, and Suzaku only had so many supplies before Nunnally starting complaining that the alcohol wipes in their first aid kit they broke out two days into their stay was starting to hurt her skin.

“Can’t we just go down to the stream?” She pleaded. “We could wash everything and get water, and, and— fish! We could catch fish! I don’t want any more rice or oatmeal! Let’s get berries! We won’t have to run into anyone, right? This mountain is really big.”

One look at Nunnally’s miserable expression and Lelouch folded, although Suzaku held his reluctance for longer, too terrified that something might happen to them. If they were found, if they were hurt by soldiers, either Britannian or Japanese, then what would he do?

“We’ll be quick,” Lelouch told him even as Suzaku sulked, “but we really do need water.”

They brought half their supplies out, dirty clothes and the little pot and mug they had been eating from, one at a time, quickly rinsed with as little water as possible after each meal. Suzaku strapped as many empty water containers to his person as he could, determined make as few trips as possible. They’d get what they needed, and then they would hide away.

“I think there’s a persimmon tree somewhere,” Suzaku admitted, as they made their way lightly to the stream, nearly half an hour’s walk away. He could hear vehicles on the main road, which were far too close for his comfort, but there seemed to be no one else in the forest. “And it’s still warm enough for wineberries, I think.”

He never learned enough about the plants in the forest to successfully forage, and now Suzaku regretted thinking it a hobby for old, boring adults.

The closest area they could find of fresh water was a tiny little stream, barely calf deep and not even wide enough to fit all three of them together side by side. It was still enough for Nunnally to exclaim happily and throw down all their supplies, slipping out of her boots and dirty socks to splash directly into the water with a grateful sigh.

Lelouch was a little slower, a little more meticulous, but he looked just as relieved even as he tried to scold Nunnally for trying to drink directly from the stream, telling her to collect it so that they could boil and filter the water later.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Nunnally declared stubbornly, splashing around, “if fish and other animals can drink from this, then I can, too!”

Suzaku just looked up at the blue skies in a daze, feeling overly exposed after the past five days in a dark and secluded shelter. Maybe he had been too paranoid. With how quiet it seemed in the forest, and the lack of planes in the sky, it almost felt like maybe there really weren’t people out to kill them.

Like it was all a bad dream.

His skin felt too tight on his body, as if it was trying to contain a monster underneath, stretching grotesquely as the monster tried to break free.

“Hey,” A hand touched his shoulder, and Suzaku glanced over to see Lelouch frowning at him, the other boy having also taken off his shoes in socks to splash around with his sister, The edge of his shorts were wet, which didn’t seem right because the water definitely wasn’t high enough. “Suzaku. Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” Suzaku said honestly, which seemed to make the prince falter a bit.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” Lelouch asked, the same question he posed once a day the past five days, and once again, Suzaku shook his head. “Alright. That’s okay. I know Nunnally said fish, but…”

It was an out, and Suzaku took it gratefully. “I can try. We might not get anything, but…”

“That’s fine,” Lelouch told him, far too agreeable. “Here, give me the rest of the clothes you packed and I’ll soak them in the water.”

He called out for Nunnally to do the same, even as Suzaku rummaged through his pack for the bundle of dirty clothes, and then shrugged off his own shirt and slipped out of his shoes and socks.

“Don’t wander off too far,” he heard Lelouch tell his sister. “If you can’t see me, that’s too far.”

“Fine,” Nunnally drawled the word out for several moments, and then she turned her attention to Suzaku, gesturing with her hands, “The ones with the fuzzy red ends, right?”

It took him a second to figure out what she was asking about. “Wineberries?”

Nunnally nodded.

“Yeah, those are it.” He paused, and then decided to reiterate Lelouch’s comment, “And don’t wander too far! Especially not without shoes.”

“I’ll be close enough to see you,” the little girl said petulantly, sounding rather miffed. “I _got_ it.”

She stomped off, and Lelouch and Suzaku spared each other a bewildered look before the both of them broke down in giggles, uneasy but still genuine.

“Are we too stifling?” Lelouch asked him.

“I have no idea what that means, but yeah, I think so!” Suzaku told him. He could guess at the definition of the word Lelouch used, especially remembering the little girl who managed to wander off on her own through a forest to a sunflower field. It seemed Nunnally had grown used to her personal freedom during her stay in Japan, and felt too (rightfully) restricted now, after five days of being forced to stay in one place.

It was a welcome break from the haze Suzaku found himself trapped in recently, and he left soon enough with one of the empty bags, intent on catching at least one fish so they could have something different to eat that night. He was still cautious, still wary of every sound around him, but the fear wasn’t as heavy as when Nunnally first suggested coming out here.

They must have stayed in the small clearing for longer than suggested, as Lelouch managed to call his sister back so that he could tackle the dirt and grime matting her hair, and Suzaku was surprised to note that she didn’t complain a single bit the entire time, even when Lelouch used the dirt and sand by the stream to scrub at the accumulated grime.

He murmured a few words to her, and Nunnally wandered a little further downstream to wash off, back to her cheerful self if her tone was any indication.

“Suzaku, you too,” Lelouch called out, which nearly caused him to trip into the water as he watched the prince slowly make his way upstream where Suzaku had already caught two small fish and deposited them into the now soaked bag. He pointed a finger at himself, feeling dumbfounded as Lelouch made his way over.

“Yes, you,” Lelouch told him, and then pointed, “Sit.”

To his eternal embarrassment, Suzaku did so immediately, and then yelped as he remembered he was standing right in the middle of the stream, and sitting down meant that his shorts were now entirely soaked, although they had been pretty wet to begin with from his attempts at catching fish. The sound made Lelouch laugh, and Suzaku found his own embarrassment worth it just for that.

It was the sound of that laughter that had him enduring through the feeling of sand being scrubbed through his hair, strange and uncomfortable as it was.

“Sorry,” Lelouch murmured to him as Suzaku winced at the grating texture against his scalp. “We didn’t think to grab any soap, and this was the best I could think of.”

Suzaku sneaked a glance up at Lelouch’s expression, and flushed darkly. “It’s, uh. It’s okay!”

He didn’t dare say anything else as Lelouch finished up, and declared him satisfactory and then told him to go wash it all off downstream. By this point, Nunnally had already dragged herself out of the water, her skin rosy and freshly scrubbed, standing at the rocks where Lelouch was drying their clothes and wrapped in a towel, having plopped her wide rain hat atop her head for her own reasons.

“The sand is amazing,” she declared, huddling happily into her towel. “Almost as good as soap.”

Suzaku lost track of their conversation as he wandered down into a slightly deeper part of the stream and then attempted to rinse the sand out of his hair, feeling the relief afterward even as he washed himself off best he could, grabbing at handfuls of sand near the stream bank to scrub off the rest of his body as well.

By the time he was done and huddled into one of the cleaner blankets they brought with them (they only thought to grab one towel, and Nunnally seemed to have fashioned that into a dress for herself), he wandered back upstream to see the little princess giggle as she smeared mud into her brother’s hair, and he sat there, resigned to let her do as she wished.

“Having fun?” He asked her, and Nunnally grinned up at him, about to respond, when Suzaku heard the sound of heavy boots far too close to them.

Suzaku wanted to think that he didn’t hesitate, that he just reacted to the presence of danger sneaking up on them, but the truth was he froze entirely as Nunnally’s eyes widened in fright and Lelouch attempted to peek from the mess on his head.

“What the—? Children?”

In an ideal world, Suzaku would have taken out the soldier immediately and efficiently, and then taken both Nunnally and Lelouch’s hands and run away. But in this world, he was merely ten years old and despite all his training, without the practical experience needed to react in such a fashion.

Afterward, he wouldn’t even be able to recall whether the soldier had spoken in English or Japanese, only that the uniform was dark and frightening, and that the man raised his gun toward Nunnally while Suzaku was frozen, and that Lelouch had seen— Lelouch, who had always been a slowpoke, managed to yank his little sister down by the wrist within a split second, and cover her entirely while Suzaku stood around in shock.

Maybe the soldier had only been making a threat posture, and maybe he wouldn’t have shot them, if the surprise in his tone was any indication. But at the moment Suzaku could only berate himself for not reacting fast enough, could only think that everything would be for naught if this stranger killed Lelouch and Nunnally— and then there was rage that boiled up inside him.

This time, he remembered charging at the soldier, yelling, attempting to draw attention away from the siblings in the split second it might take to save them.

The masked and heavily armored soldier took a step back in surprise. This time, Suzaku didn’t have the advantage of a sharp object by his side, although he did pick up a rock that was larger than his whole hand, and charged with nothing more than a blanket atop his shoulders and shorts that were still dripping wet.

He wasn’t enough to do much damage, couldn’t even knock the man over, but Suzaku _clung_ on as the soldier yelled out and tried to shake him off, as he felt a hard blow on the back of his head even as he tried to do his best to wrestle the much bigger adult down and swing with the rock he had in his hand, trying to make the man lose his weapon.

It was uncoordinated, messy and barbaric, throwing out almost everything Suzaku trained for his entire life about stances and strength and balance. Instead, he grabbed onto the man with one arm and struck again and again with the other, clinging even as the soldier yelled and tried to get him off. The moment the weapon arm came down, the boy pounced, trying to hit the gun _out_ of the man’s hands. He yelled and kicked and even tried to bite down when the rock finally slipped from his hands, his fingers stinging over the sharp edges and grit of dirt.

Suzaku didn’t know how long he struggled, although it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. It felt like an eternity before the soldier finally dislodged him, spitting out angry curses as the man threw him to the ground several feet away, making Suzaku cry out in pain as he hit the dirt hard.

“You little—!”

This time, the gun was aimed in his direction, and he could feel his heartbeat racing through his ears and there was the loudest sound of thunder before the soldier screamed and burst into flames, dropping his weapon and flailing for several long moments— and Suzaku could feel the sheer _heat_ from where he was, still on the ground even as he pushed himself up by an elbow because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the spectacle before him.

The fire was short-lived and terrifyingly hot, giving no respite even as Suzaku’s skin pinkened from his distance, and within seconds, the man was entirely gone.

Not even ashes remained.

He stared in shock, barely registering as Nunnally ran over to him with a shout of his name, nearly stumbling in her haste. She grabbed onto him, all little hands and tears pressed against him until Suzaku registered— _pain_.

It hurts, it _hurts!_

Lelouch appeared a second later, dark hair still dripping with the mud that his sister smeared as he dropped down to his knees next to them, and it seemed like such a strange detail and moment of silliness that he found amusing just minutes ago.

“We have to go,” the prince said, voice hushed and fast. He looked very pale, shaking just the slightest bit. “There’s bound to be others, and they must have heard that. If he’s a scout, then we don’t have time—”

“Stop, stop!” Nunnally cried out, tears already rolling down her face as she shook her head. “We can’t go anywhere, Suzaku’s been shot!”

Suzaku struggled to look down, to the reason of the hurt, and saw Nunnally pressing against a pool of red, and it must have been her hands causing the pain, but it was also her hands stemming the blood leaking out that looked more like it belonged to a scene in movies than in real life.

Lelouch’s expression twisted, torn and terrified in turn, and he spared a glance over to the forest where the soldier appeared from, before turning his full attention on the two of them, the set of his lips now determined and fierce.

“Nunnally,” he said, then hesitated. He grabbed onto Suzaku’s hand, and Suzaku wished he could concentrate on more than the pain searing through him, wished he could appreciate the comfort offered, but his mind felt like a blaze. “I know— you shouldn’t— and I’ll help where I can—”

“I can do it,” Nunnally confirmed for her brother, and she sounded so sure for her age.

“Suzaku,” and here, Suzaku stared up at Lelouch through hazy tears, unable to look away from the bright violet eyes. How had he ever thought those eyes scary before? It was a comfort now, one of the few familiar things left in the world to him. “Do you remember Nunnally’s song? If you can, I need you to help, okay? Just hum the harmony, I’ll help you, we just need to follow along—”

It didn’t make any sense to him, talking about music now. Elements weren’t going to do anything, not that he knew of, but then again, Nunnally had her own song that she made him practice in various forms until he could likely recite it in his sleep. She was so determined to make him learn her and Lelouch’s songs that he couldn’t say no, even if Suzaku wanted to practice the elemental songs more.

He barely managed the slightest nod in acknowledgement, feeling sweat bead on his skin and his heart pounding in his head.

Lelouch started humming, and it was all so strange, so painful, but Suzaku found himself following along because he couldn’t think of anything else. They practiced this before, many times, and that was so ingrained in him that he could manage it even through the pain.

And then Nunnally started to Sing.

Her voice really was a lot like her brother’s when she sang, so very young and clear, her melody weaving through their harmonies with a childish innocence, light and bright against the sounds of running water by them, and so different from when they were practicing in the storage house, quiet in case they could be overheard.

“ _Sing a song,_ ” she started, eyes closed, _“a cure for sorrow.”_

It was strange to know the words finally, because the elemental songs all felt nonsensical to him, like he wasn’t meant to pronounce it, like it wasn’t made to fit his mouth. Her voice was light, light…

It was _light_.

Like the Song of Fire, there was a strange glow, a warmth and a breeze, like fingers running through his hair, and everything was just a bit brighter. At first, Suzaku’s agony brought about the thought it was it was nothing but a hallucination, but as Nunnally continued to sing, her eyes closed and now with her hands pulled to her chest, staining the towel she was wearing red with Suzaku’s blood, he was starting to realize that it wasn’t a hallucination at all.

It couldn’t be, at least he didn’t think so, not with the pain fading with every passing second and every passing note.

Soon enough, Lelouch was singing with her, although his hands were still gripping tightly onto Suzaku’s, and he didn’t look like he did when he sang the Song of Fire, like he was joining in. Suzaku spared glances between the two siblings, and realized immediately that he could tell the difference. While Nunnally was Singing, was creating a miracle, Lelouch was just helping her in this, only providing a harmony and a balance, rather than also doing the same. It was something about the way the light revolved around the Singer, like it came from them.

He could barely follow along, although the pain in his stomach closed up, and even his skin felt better, felt clear of the tightness that was covered with pain from other areas. He felt— rested. _Well_.

Nunnally’s voice trailed off, and along with her words, the lights began to die away as well, until Suzaku was left gaping at her, and she slumped down onto him, with Lelouch moving to brace her just in time so that the two of them were supporting her weight.

“And now,” Lelouch said, his voice strained, “we have to _go_.”

 

—

 

They hurried to put on their still damp clothes and Suzaku washed off his own blood with shaking hands— not because he was in pain, but merely because the experience left him shaking and he couldn’t understand why or how to stop it.

He didn’t even have a scar.

Nunnally had passed out, and Lelouch wiped the blood off her hands with a damp cloth before attempting to wrestle her into a jacket and spare set of pants, trying to hoist her up on his back to carry her before he faltered and nearly stumbled.

“Here,” Suzaku told him, after having stepped back into damp socks and in his shoes again with a disgusted face. “I’ll take her.”

Whatever just happened, Suzaku had been the one who benefited from it. And Lelouch was looking very pale himself, having washed out the mud in his hair and was now shivering slightly even his wet clothes despite the warm autumn air.

Lelouch, Suzaku very carefully did not think, had just burned a man alive.

As Suzaku hoisted Nunnally onto his back and Lelouch pulled on the backpack not filled with fish and picked up Nunnally’s boots, they already knew that they wouldn’t be able to go back to their little shelter.

A missing soldier would mean more soldiers coming to search the area. And while their shelter was well hidden, it wouldn’t be that well hidden to soldiers trained and determined to search the area.

“Where do we go?” Suzaku asked softly. He felt like every option had been cut from them. They couldn’t go to the Britannians who tried to kill their Prince and Princess, knowingly or not. They couldn’t go to the Japanese people, who could surely turn Lelouch and Nunnally in if it meant the chance to save themselves, and Suzaku couldn’t go back to his family, knowing— knowing his own actions.

“Away from here,” Lelouch told him, still too pale. “If there’s a war, there’s bound to be refugees. Shelters. We’ll find a place.”

A place to hide two Britannian children and one Japanese child, unwilling to be separated.

They made their way out of the forest which gave them shelter. Walked down the mountain, careful with every step to avoid any other scout or patrol. It didn’t matter who the soldiers were fighting for, Suzaku didn’t want to see any of them, didn’t want to confront a single one. He wasn’t willing to anymore.

The town at the base of the mountain, the one that was going to host the festival Suzaku wanted to take Lelouch and Nunnally to just a week ago, was completely destroyed. The houses were nothing but rubble, and bodies littered the streets, spreading the ground with the brown of old and dried blood. Lelouch didn’t react to it, so Suzaku didn’t either, although he was grateful that Nunnally wasn’t awake to see it.

As if playing a trick on them, the skies continued to be clear, and the roads empty, like they hadn’t just encountered a soldier earlier armed and willing to shoot. They walked down the long stretches of road by the rice fields, encountering no one on the way and pushing on for hours, with Lelouch murmuring every once in a while that he could take Nunnally now, and Suzaku shaking his head when he saw the prince’s pallor.

He was still feeling strong, even if he ached a bit from the walking and from carrying another body on his back. A few hours of walking later had them near the shelter of another small town, with buildings decimated but no bodies scattered about and the walls still high enough to hide behind if need be. He was only reminded then that they hadn’t eaten anything all day, that their water had run out that morning and so they hadn’t had anything to drink, other than Nunnally’s stubborn sips of stream water.

“Let’s rest here,” Suzaku said, as they stopped at the shade of what must have once been a family run convenience store. The roof was partially missing, the windows shattered, and it looked like the place had been looted already, but surely there must have been some things left behind. Lelouch must have been very tired, as he didn’t argue at all, instead collapsing under the shade with his head bent forward in exhaustion.

Suzaku very carefully deposited Nunnally next to Lelouch, and the prince wrapped his arms around his sister before he sighed gratefully and slumped onto her.

He looked around. The place was entirely deserted and silent. Surely it would be okay to leave for just a minute?

“I’ll be right back,” Suzaku told Lelouch, who seemed to barely be keeping his eyes open. “I’m just going to check out the inside of the store. If you see anyone, just shout and I’ll be here.”

As he thought, the tiny store was looted of all non-perishables, although he did managed to find a few bruised and softening apples that rolled under the shelves. There weren’t any bottles of water, but there were still cans of sports drinks left in the now warm fridge. Suzaku stayed away from where the area for fresh food once was, the place now stinking of rot and over ripeness that was attracting an obscene amount of bugs.

In the end, he also grabbed a few packets of candy that people skipped over, and a bag of trampled and slightly ripped squid jerky.

He shoved everything but a can of the sports drink and an apple into the bag Lelouch brought along, and climbed out the store to offer the items to Lelouch, who looked on the verge of falling asleep.

“Here,” Suzaku said, crouching in front of him, “you need to eat.”

Lelouch just shook his head, turning away from the apple. “...not hungry.”

“Then drink something,” Suzaku urged. He held out the can, insistent, until Lelouch took it reluctantly. Breathing out in relief, Suzaku plopped onto the ground in front of him, watching carefully as Lelouch opened the tab and took a tentative sip, making a face at the sugar.

“She hasn’t woken up,” Suzaku commented on Nunnally, who was still sprawled over her brother, not stirring in the least even as Lelouch nudged her a bit so he could move freely. “Is that… is she okay?”

“It’s a good sign. I think.” Lelouch said quietly, and turned to pat at his sister’s hair. “I think we helped enough.”

“I don’t understand.” He didn’t understand anything, really. He never heard of any songs that could _heal_ people before. There were only four: wind, air, water, and fire. Everyone knew that. That’s why it was the elemental songs.

Lelouch patted her hair gently again, looking a bit lost. “...What do you know about the Songs, Suzaku?”

That is was like magic. That the royal family could wield music in a way that created legends. That it was _real_.

The prince must have seen the conflicted look on his face, because he smiled, although that smile was far away and enigmatic. “The story goes that we’re all born with a song in our hearts. That’s what Mother told us as bedtime stories, anyway. One that we know instinctively, because it’s… it’s like communication. Songs connect us to spirits, and those spirits get to play when we sing.”

Lelouch hesitated a moment, putting down the drink next to him. “The Song of Fire will call fire spirits, the Song of Air will call air spirits… you get it. When someone sings, you can almost see them. Feel them a little, near you. They’ll come when they hear you, and they’ll help you if you need help, but… that doesn’t make it easy. There’s a price for everything.

“The Emperor is supposed to have a connection to spirits, to connect with the world beyond, and that’s why it’s a requirement for them to be able to— to Sing. But the reason for it seems to have been lost years ago, even if you still need to be able to Sing to be Emperor. I don’t know if you noticed, there’s usually a few people who can compete for the throne.”

Suzaku nudged at the drink again, and Lelouch took the hint, taking another tiny sip.

“Have you ever wondered what happened to the people who don’t make it to the throne?” Lelouch asked him.

He hadn’t. “Dukes and Duchesses… right?”

Lelouch shook his head. “Not for the people who can compete for the throne.”

Now that he thought about it, Suzaku supposed that was true. He never really noticed, although it wasn’t as if he paid any real attention to Britannian politics. He barely paid any attention to Japanese politics, and his father was— had been— the Japanese Prime Minister.

Lelouch looked up once more, violet eyes staring up at the blue, blue skies. “...Let’s not talk about this anymore.”

Suzaku wanted to push, wanted to know, but he knew better to. Lelouch wasn’t the only who who had topics he didn’t want to talk about, after all.

They rested a few minutes more they continued on, after Suzaku made Lelouch also eat an apple, and then picked up Nunnally again.

“Maybe we can hide in one of these towns,” Suzaku suggested, wanting to at least stay somewhere until Lelouch was less pale, and Nunnally woke up. “If there’s no one here, then nothing will come for us, right? We can just hide here.”

“We’d run out of food and water again,” Lelouch told him, hands hooked over the straps of his backpack. “If we can find a place with other people, then we might be able to find someone who can help us.”

Suzaku stopped in his steps, a bitter feeling sliding down his stomach.

“...But who would help us?”

It was only a few days in, and there were so many people dead already. They passed two towns, and both were ruined. The earth was covered in holes, in the shells of exploded bombs etching its way into the landscape. They had no one, Suzaku thought, only themselves.

“We’ll find someone,” Lelouch told him, not looking back. He stopped, though, to wait for Suzaku.

Suzaku wasn’t sure he wanted to find someone. He didn’t want— he didn’t want to deal with other people anymore. Or just right now. He didn’t want to see the face of someone else who would aim to kill him, or Lelouch and Nunnally. He just wanted to find a place where they could be safe, all of them. He felt… lost.

He didn’t like it, but couldn’t escape it. Didn’t know how to describe it, not even to himself.

“Lelouch,” he called out, barely above a whisper as they walked through a silent landscape of soft earth covered in the tire tracks of tanks and Knightmares, “we’re… going to stay together, right?”

His father once told him it was a weakness to show hesitance. To show uncertainty, especially in the face of the enemy. His father would have considered Lelouch and Nunnally to be the enemy. Suzaku thought that he didn’t want to be very much like his father, if that was the case.

He didn’t look over to see Lelouch giving him an unreadable stare, but he did notice when the both of them seemed to drift a bit closer in their steps.

“Yes,” Lelouch told him, just as quietly, “we are.”

 

—

 

Nunnally woke the next day, although she was groggy and tired, and both Lelouch and Suzaku tried to feed her the majority of what they managed to scrounge up in food and water. It seemed to perk her up, although she squinted at some of the labels on the candy they gave her.

“Do you want me to translate that for you?” Suzaku asked, eager to do something that might be useful, but the little girl just shook her head and pointed to the words on the candy.

“They’re squiggly,” she told him, which only drew Lelouch closer as he frowned and asked her to look up at him and to follow his finger.

“...We’ll have to get you glasses later.” He told her, his tone light. “But it’s not too bad.”

They continued their journey with Nunnally between them, holding onto both their hands while Lelouch and Suzaku traded off on who would carry the now quite light backpack. They left most of their supplies back at the hideout, and then more at the stream, but now that they were on the move, it was easier for them to stop by places of water (even if the water was dirty) and loot through ruined homes and stores.

The three of them would duck around trees and bushes if there was even a hint of others on the road, or down into the rice paddies if there were planes overhead and nowhere else to hide. One particular incidence had them couching amongst a road of corpses, with Lelouch very carefully making Nunnally promise to keep her eyes closed the entire time they walked past that slaughtered town. There was a procession of Knightmare Frames then, passing through far too close for comfort.

They spent three days like that, walking until they exhausted themselves, looting from wherever they could, and very carefully avoiding topics that seemed to burn in Suzaku’s mind. The more they saw, the more he doubted his own selfish decisions. Could things have been avoided if his father had gotten his way? Was this all Suzaku’s fault?

And then he remembered his father’s words about fighting down to every last man, woman, and child, and he thought: this would have happened just the same.

It grew harder and harder to travel without being noticed, especially as they seemed to draw nearer and nearer to conflicts. Where it had been all but silent on their walk the first day, now they could hear the distant sounds of explosions and warfare once more, at least once every few minutes, it felt like.

Even Lelouch looked more unsure, although they agreed it would be best to find civilization of some kind. A group of civilians, maybe, or some kind of communications line that hadn’t already been cut. Suzaku thought that maybe Lelouch might know the phone numbers of a few people who might be able to help them, and it gave him a tiny spark of hope.

On the morning of the fourth day, Suzaku once again woke with Nunnally attempting to attack his ribs in his sleep, this time the two of them sheltered by the heavy branches of a wild loquat tree bearing so many fruits that it seemed to sag close to the ground. They had eaten well last night thanks to that, and had plenty of fruits packed away in their bag for later as well.

Once again, Suzaku crawled over the little girl in search for Lelouch, and found the boy standing at the edge of the cluster of trees they used for shelter, one hand on the trunk of a young cypress tree and looking toward the sunrise, his entire figure haloed in the growing light.

“Lelouch?” Suzaku asked hesitantly, making his way over to join him.

The prince didn’t seem to respond for a moment, gaze caught off in the distance as if looking at something only he could see. His expression was unreadable, surprisingly blank for a child, and it was several long moments before he finally acknowledged Suzaku’s presence.

“What is it?” Suzaku asked him when he finally caught Lelouch’s gaze.

“It’s—” the boy faltered a bit, suddenly changing from the visage of a blank doll to something more animated, more sad. “Nothing, I guess. I just had a strange feeling.”

They went to wake Nunnally, only to find that the little girl had a terrible reaction to the amount of loquats consumed as she started crying when she woke, complaining of terrible stomach aches and hot flashes that only made her curl up and refuse to stand up.

It took a while to coax her out, and Lelouch carried her as she whimpered and clutched around his neck, while Suzaku took their pack.

“The next town,” Lelouch promised her, “we’ll try to find some medicine.”

It was only at this point that Suzaku couldn’t help but bring up, “But can’t you just— make it go away? Make it better, like you made me better?”

Nunnally didn’t answer, having buried her face against the back of her brother’s neck, and Lelouch shook his head. “That’s not my Song.”

By the time the sun was high up in the sky, there were clouds rolling in for what looked like a storm later, and they finally came across the first town that looked— somewhat intact. Abandoned, looted, and somewhat destroyed in terms of fragile items, but the buildings were still whole and—

“It looks like everyone just left,” Suzaku said with worry, peering through the window of a modern looking house with his hands cupped around to his face to see clearer, as Lelouch stood a few feet away with Nunnally still on his back and making discomforted noises every once in a while. There was even food sitting out on the table that he could see— a wooden bowl of plastic wrapped snacks undisturbed by the war.

Lelouch appeared just as apprehensive. “...We should go too, after we find that medicine.”

And load up the bag with more food and water and maybe some first aid items. If possible, Suzaku also wanted to find new shoes and socks. And if the pipes were working, a proper _bath_. Just an hour or so in this town couldn’t hurt. Or just an hour or so in an actually house with everything they needed.

It must have show in his face, because as he turned back to the Lelouch, the prince only shook his head with grim determination. “Ten minutes, if we can. There’s— there’s something wrong here, Suzaku.”

He could understand that feeling, the slight nagging at the edge of his senses, but his desire for basic amenities was just louder. Even so, Suzaku deflated slightly and agreed. “Okay. Stomach medicine for Nunnally and some water.”

“We don’t have to go all that far away,” Lelouch tried to reassure him, “if nothing happens, we can come back at night.”

Maybe they could sleep on a proper futon again. With proper _blankets_.

“ _No,_ ” Nunnally grumbled from where she was on Lelouch’s back. She reached to tug at a strand of his hair, and finally revealed wide indigo eyes. “Shower?”

Lelouch winced a bit, “The pipes might not even work, Nunnally—”

“Please?” She pleaded, and Suzaku could see as Lelouch seemed to flounder and wilt underneath his little sister’s request. “I’ll be really fast! Less than ten minutes!” She rubbed at a side of her face, red with an insect bite from two nights ago.

Suzaku really wanted that as well.

“We could do it,” he reassured Lelouch. “Shower, medicine, food, and clothes. There’s no one here to stop us.”

Nunnally tugged at his hair again, and Lelouch visibly wilted under two sets of hopeful stares.

“...As fast as possible.” He relented weakly.

Nunnally actually gave a mild cheer, although she didn’t move to run into the house the moment she could, which was testament to how horrible she must have been feeling. Instead, Suzaku tried to open the door, found it locked, and then managed to break a window with a rock instead, using his backpack to clear out the glass shards before he climbed through carefully, and then went to unlock the front door for Lelouch and Nunnally.

Lelouch set out to find the medicine cabinet first even as Suzaku emptied out the majority of loquats from the backpack and then ransacked the kitchen for packaged snacks, food, water bottles, and— he found a basket of medicine in the cupboards above the sink, after having dragged a chair over to help him look through the cabinets.

“I found it!” He called out, reading through several labels of things that they clearly didn’t need and throwing it aside before he grabbed a round bottle for upset stomachs and a tub of paste for insect bites. Taking those and then carefully climbing down the chair, Suzaku turned to see that Lelouch was already there, with Nunnally squirming and staring with hopeful eyes.

“It says,” Suzaku told them as he brought the label up to his face, “to take one cap for adults, and half a cap for children—”

“I want a full cap!” Nunnally insisted.

Lelouch was letting her down, although Nunnally made a whining noise and instead curled up on one of the kitchen seats while Suzaku poured out half a cap of thick syrup for her, making a face at the sharp smell of milky sweetness.

Rather than complaining, Nunnally downed the cap the moment it was handed to her, even if she made a face in distaste. Afterward, she even held the empty cap over to Suzaku and demanded, “More!” before she stuck her tongue out and made noises of disgust.

“No,” Lelouch was the one who told her, taking the plastic cap away. “It’ll kick in soon.”

He then turned to Suzaku, who was packing away the medicine into their bag, and said, “...The water works. And there are towels and clothes. If we hurry…”

Suzaku didn’t need to be told twice.

 

—

 

Twenty minutes later, hair still wet but finally completely clean for the first time in well over a week despite not being able to take the long bath, the three of them set off again from the house, this time armed with new clothes that might have been rolled several times at the pants and sleeves, and two new bags instead of the old ones— filled with water and medicine and non perishable foods and small tools like scissors and lighters and twine, and even a small pot and wooden spoon that was latched to the outside of Suzaku’s bag.

Even Nunnally was feeling better, wearing a dark shirt that was far too long and belted at her waist to give the impression of a dress, with her sleeves rolled many times and also carrying the largest shoulder purse they could find and an overly large sun hat she insisted on after pointing out just how red her skin (and even Lelouch’s) was.

It was dead silent through the small town, and they didn’t dare to stop at any of the shops with how eerily quiet it was, without even the sound of insects or birds.

Later, Suzaku would wonder at the coincidence of things happening just as they thought they were safe and scott-free, because just like last time, they were almost out of the town proper when he first felt the strange prickling at the back of his neck, like someone or something was coming toward him at a very fast speed but somehow just out of sight. It wouldn’t have alarmed him if not for the silence of the town previously.

He frowned, and asked, “What is—?” except Nunnally was already pointing up, and she said at the same time, “Black birds!”

Except it wasn’t birds, because the sky, which was now nearly completely covered with heavy rain clouds, revealed dozens of black dots that were rapidly growing closer like a swarm rather than birds.

“Run!” Lelouch told them, and the three of them _ran_.

Suzaku bolted out the sheer fear in Lelouch’s voice, but didn’t get twenty paces before he heard Nunnally cry out and stumble, and he stopped and turned just as he saw Lelouch falter from where he had been running and holding onto his sister’s hand. He didn’t hesitate this time, instead transitioning smoothly in one turn to run back and pick the little girl with bleeding knees up in one swoop under an arm, and then reached out with his free hand to grab tightly onto Lelouch’s wrist before he dragged them both forward as fast he as he could.

By now, he could see just on edge of his vision that the black dots most definitely weren’t birds, they were missiles, and they were headed in the direction of the town the three of them were still escaping from faster than any person, let alone three children, could possibly hope to run.

They stumbled along the dirt road for another few seconds, Suzaku single-mindedly forcing all three of them faster than he ever thought he would be able to. He was almost proud of himself for that time, until he also missed a step when Lelouch stumbled and pulled him back, gasping out, “We can’t—!”

All he could see in his mind’s eye were the towns they passed before, turned into nothing more than rubble at some parts, with the large craters in the earth and shells of metal surrounding those areas. He wanted to think they were almost out of the town, that they would make it, except there were still buildings around them and the black dots in the sky were now raining down on them in the shape of long and sleek missiles, dozens darkening the sky.

In a move that surprised Suzaku enough to overpower him, Lelouch yanked hard until Suzaku was stumbling backwards a little with Nunnally in tow, the little girl yelling out in fright. It wasn’t until seconds later, when he barely managed to avoid a hard collision with the ground, that Suzaku heard Lelouch’s determined voice and saw—

Dirt surged up around them, urged on by a barely visible yellowish-green sparkle, and then the skies were hidden entirely as the world went dark except for the faint glow of yellow-green illuminating the inside of the spherical dome, stretched across wide enough that it could have easily fit twenty people underneath rather than three small children.

Lelouch’s arms were raised as he Sang, voice harsh and stilted, faltering a moment when the first of the explosions went off and the ground shook hard underneath them, prompting Nunnally to grab tightly onto Suzaku’s ribs from where they were sprawled on the ground.

From there on, the explosions happened one after another, like once when Suzaku had watched a maid pop corn on the stove, and the sounds came quick after everything reached the ideal temperature.

Lelouch faltered and stopped after a few seconds, stumbling down onto the ground as his Singing lapsed and the glow faded away, leaving them in pitch darkness as the booms outside continued and the shaking never ceased.

Suzaku moved after that, fumbling through his bag for the lighters he knew he stored, arms struggling a bit around Nunnally until she let go, seemingly crawling away and toward her brother instead in the dark.

He almost dropped his lighter the moment he lit it.

“Lelouch,” he called out in alarm, seeing as Nunnally did indeed make her way over to her brother, “you’re bleeding!”

It wasn’t the bloody scrapes that Nunnally had on her knees, but the other boy turned away at the light and attempted to wipe away the blood under his nose with shaking fingers and little success, as it was still streaming out weakly and only smeared across his pale face.

Outside, the explosions were starting to slow, but it had yet to stop.

The lighter provided barely any light in the space, but it was just bright enough to see each other, and to make out that the dome of earth encasing them was… big. It must have encased the entirety of the main road, and Suzaku could see shadows of cracked concrete at the edges where the earth must have broken through.

Nunnally was surprisingly quiet a moment before she told Suzaku, who had been fumbling to reach Lelouch but also keep the lighter lit and far away from burning anyway, “I took a flashlight.”

It was a small light, meant to be attached to keychains or stored in pockets, and she and Suzaku worked to form a mound of dirt that would encase the side of the flashlight until there was a small platform at the top just for the flashlight to peek out, and then placed the largest clear water bottle they had atop the flashlight, letting the light diffuse through the water and illuminate the entire space weakly.

Then he took out the first aid kit and cleaned out the scrapes on Nunnally’s knees, and by the time Suzaku turned to help Lelouch clean off the blood, the sounds and rocking of explosions stopped entirely.

They sat in silence for a while in the dim lighting, with Nunnally at her usual place plastered against her brother’s side and half onto his lap even as Lelouch slumped onto Suzaku, and Suzaku tried hard not to panic over the amount of questions he had.

“That wasn’t the Song of Fire,” he chose to say instead some minutes later.

“No.” Lelouch confirmed quietly.

“That was,” Suzaku knew it, because it was one the siblings taught him, but he never imagined that he would see the effect of the song, because Nunnally claimed not to have an elemental song, and he was so sure that Lelouch was _fire_ . Everyone knew those lucky enough to be blessed with song had only _one_. “That was Earth.”

“Idiot,” Lelouch murmured against Suzaku’s collar. “What else did you think it was?”

For the first time in a full week, Suzaku felt of flare of irritation, but it was oddly welcome.

“You told me your Song was _fire_ ,” he accused.

Lelouch only jabbed him at the side sharply, although the movement wasn’t strong enough to inflict pain. “I never said that.”

He didn’t say anything about it, actually, but Suzaku originally thought he didn’t have to because Lelouch showed what he could do when he sang the Song of Fire. He thought he knew, and was now realizing he knew nothing at all, even on the little he thought he could hold to be true, and it was making him angry.

“People will see,” Nunnally said from where she was pressed against her brother’s chest. “They’ll find us, and they’ll know.”

That seemed to finally stir Lelouch, who breathed out heavily. “...Yeah. Sorry. I had to make this thick enough to withstand the blasts. I can try to undo it now, but…”

“ _Don’t_.” Nunnally told him with surprising vehemence.

Suzaku thought of the blood dripping from Lelouch’s face, and even in his anger, he couldn’t help but agree. There was something wrong with the Songs if it knocked Nunnally out for a full day, if it made Lelouch pale and draw blood.

They were quiet for a few more moments, as Nunnally wiggled her way into a more comfortable spot, mostly crawling over her brother until she settled on top of him with her legs sprawled over Suzaku’s lap, knees bandaged with thick white linen.

“Mother said you should start with the truth,” Nunnally said, voice hushed and warm as she settled against Lelouch with a sigh and closed her eyes, even as Lelouch gave her a fond but exasperated look. “They’re going to find us.”

 _They_. Now that she repeated it, Suzaku finally understood. A large dome of earth at the edge of a destroyed town… the moment any cameras turned in their direction, people would know something was wrong. It would be glaringly obvious that something supernatural happened here, and if the Britannian military looked in their direction, then it wouldn’t be hard to come to the conclusion that there might be someone with an elemental song in the midst of it all… and there were only two possible candidates for that in Japan.

 _They_ would find Lelouch and Nunnally, and with how exhausted Lelouch seemed, with Nunnally’s knees and general youth, they wouldn’t be able to run very far even with Suzaku’s help.

His grip tightened on the two of them.

 _They would be_ _separated_.

That was the best case scenario. Worst case, they would just all be killed. The area near the Kururugi Shrine had been bombed, after all, so there were at least some people who didn’t care about the survival of the royal children.

Nunnally jabbed at Lelouch even with her eyes closed, and he finally sighed and turned violet eyes to Suzaku, pushing himself up the slightest bit. “Nunnally’s right. They’ll come investigating.”

“They’ll take you away.” Suzaku despaired, because he couldn’t fight back against _one_ soldier, how was he supposed to keep an army away?

“I think,” and here, Lelouch’s gaze dropped to his sister, who was apparently trying to doze, and he raised a hand to pat gently at her hair. “I think no matter what we did, that’s what was going to happen.”

Suzaku shook his head in denial, defaulting back to Japanese as he said, “ _No_. You said we’d stay together.”

Lelouch was pale even in the dim lightning, as he said, “A secret for a secret.”

Hearing that, Suzaku blanched.

“Nunnally and I don’t have elemental songs,” Lelouch told him, even as Suzaku was frozen with how much he know didn’t want to know, when only a minute ago he wanted to demand answers. “When I was really little, I accidentally destroyed more than half of my Mother’s gardens. About… four acres of it, from what I’ve been told. Everything turned— to ash, and then to nothing. After that, a witch appeared.”

He patted at Nunnally’s hair even as the princess gave up the pretense of sleep, opening her eyes to pay attention to her brother’s story.

“Nunnally was just a baby back then, and the witch told Mother… to cover it up. Not let anyone know. She said that even the Emperor should never learn about what happened, and that everyone should pretend Nunnally and I don’t have the ability to Sing. I don’t know how she managed to convince Mother of it, but the witch talked to me afterward and told me that I should never Sing that song again. I didn’t want to listen to her back then, and everyone knows that you only get one Song. But then she said… she said if Mother had been there… if Nunnally had been there… they would have disappeared as well, along with all the flowers. And what if they had been there?”

Lelouch fell silent a moment, eyes turned to watch the flicker of light bouncing through the water.

“So I stopped. She said I was lucky I was still so young, and that I didn’t have much experience in the Songs. I destroyed four acres around me and I was lucky that I hadn’t accidentally killed everyone in the Aries Villa.”

Suzaku’s eyes were wide at the implications.

“Then when I was seven, I fell off a horse. Landed badly, and broke my arm.”

“I remember that, kind of,” Nunnally piqued in. “That was a really mean horse.”

Lelouch only huffed out a breathy laugh. “I think I cried, because it hurt a lot— but then Nunnally saw, and _she_ started crying way louder than me. We were pretty far away from the main house, and the guard that was with us went to fetch a doctor and alert everyone else. And then Nunnally just started…”

“I started to Sing,” the girl took over the story, grinning proudly. “I just knew the words! I just wanted to Lelouch to get better, and he did!”

“But she got really sick for the next two days, and the witch came again.” Lelouch continued. “And she said… every time Nunnally Sings, it will take something from her. Her energy, if she’s lucky. Her health. If she’s unlucky… her senses. Parts of her life.”

Suzaku’s couldn’t help but wonder if Nunnally’s deteriorating eyesight was due to this.

“That’s how the Songs worked, anyway. The more you Sing, the more you ask of the spirits… the more of your life you give away to them. That’s just the fate of all who are born with the power of Song— all born as _Liedmeisters_. Overdo it, and it makes you weak and ill. But it’s worse for Nunnally.”

“You reacted badly, too.” Suzaku pointed out, still dreading the end of this conversation.

“Because they’re not my Songs,” Lelouch breathed out, sounding exhausted. “We only get one Song.”

Suzaku felt his irritation come back. “You _just_ sang the Song of the Earth. And I saw you sing the Song of Fire!”

“I _learned_ it,” now there was that familiar irritation in the prince’s words as well. “I already told you that. I overheard the Song of Fire from Cornelia. And Mother made sure we knew the Song of the Earth since we were really little.”

“But you said it couldn’t be _learned!_ ” Suzaku insisted. Everything was contradicting itself, and he hated it.

This time, it was Nunnally who broke in between the two of them. “You shouldn’t be able to. I tried— the first time Lelouch managed the Song of Fire, I kept trying to Sing the Song of the Earth, all the way up until I passed out.”

“For a full day.” Lelouch confirmed her story. “I haven’t heard of anyone else being able to do it, either. But I just—” He looked so frustrated there, so angry, “I _hated_ it. Having to hide. How Carine would _laugh at us_ during music lessons. How Cornelia _felt sorry for us_ . Schneizel used to— he used to say—” His voice nearly broke under the frustration, as he continued mockingly, “‘ _it’s too bad’_ like I failed! Right from the start!”

“You didn’t fail,” Nunnally told her brother, elbowing him in the ribs until he protested, dropping the old grievance, “you did it! And you learned _two_ songs, so Carine can _suck a lemon_.” She hesitated a moment, and then seemed to nod to herself, although her voice lowered conspiratorially, “And Schneizel, too!”

Lelouch gave her a hesitant smile, and then hugged her close.

Suzaku just shook his head. This was all too strange to him, despite the time he wanted to learn all about the Songs. It was nothing like the books taught him, nothing like anything he had been told.

“But if your songs aren’t elemental…” It didn’t make sense.

Lelouch huffed. “The witch… she called it… the Song of Healing, for Nunnally. And the one she told me never to sing was the Song of Destruction.”

Suzaku had never, ever heard of that before.

“And that’s it,” Lelouch said, finally slumping again. “Our biggest secret, one that no one can know. I don’t want to Sing for war, and Nunnally deserves to— to _live_ and not be used as a political tool, or handy backup in case some slimy Lord gets himself almost killed.”

Suzaku felt the non-existent wound on his side twinge, and he tensed his jaw, looking down as if he could just hide away underneath his bangs. He knew what was coming next.

“A secret for a secret,” he repeated, hollowly.

There was only one thing he could say that was as big as the secret that Lelouch and Nunnally just revealed. Suzaku had never been a secretive child, always one to wear his heart on his sleeve and loud about his own likes and dislikes. He couldn’t imagine trying to explain it the way Lelouch did, or how he could possibly smooth things over like Nunnally.

“I—” It felt like a stone sitting in his throat, like a frog crawling up from his stomach. He didn’t know how to say it. Suzaku would rather lose his voice and stay silent forever, never to communicate with anyone again, if it meant that he would never have to say. “It wasn’t— my father…”

Next to him, Lelouch slipped his hand down to grab onto Suzaku’s suddenly cold fingers. Nunnally’s legs were a solid and warm weight on his lap.

“He was going to do something terrible,” Suzaku whispered, slipping back into Japanese once more to explain. It didn’t feel right otherwise. It didn’t feel like he had the words for this in English, like he wanted it to stay a secret and a memory only for one language, as if he could set up a barrier somehow. If he admitted this, in Japanese, then maybe he could start anew if he left it all behind him. “And he wasn’t even _sorry_ . I tried to argue, but he wouldn’t listen to me. I had to stop him. _I had to_.”

Maybe the war would never have happened. Maybe he would still be at home now, taking his lessons and wondering what in the world happened to his friends. Maybe his father would lie and say that Britannia wanted its prince and princess back.

Maybe the sun would be shining and there would have been no sea of corpses left on the streets out to rot, or towns destroyed by missiles and bombs, with the earth scarred by weapons of war.

Or maybe this would all happen anyway, and Lelouch and Nunnally would be dead.

“I killed him,” Suzaku admitted numbly in Japanese. “I stopped him.”

The diffused light was casting strange shadows on all of them, and nothing felt real.

Nunnally reached out to grab onto his other hand, and Lelouch dropped his head back on Suzaku’s shoulder again, his dark hair tickling against the skin of his neck.

“We’ll stay together,” Lelouch promised again, and this time, somehow, Suzaku felt like he could believe that even with the world beyond the walls of dirt blocking it out being what it was. The whole world could be ruined and dark, but here in the safety of this small space, Suzaku thought that maybe things would be okay.

Of course they would understand. Of course they wouldn’t judge. How could he have forgotten the soldier Lelouch burnt to dust as the man shot Suzaku?

“Suzaku,” Lelouch said again. “It’s a lot to ask, but. Um.”

It was one of the few times the prince actually sounded flustered, and that was enough to draw Suzaku’s attention entirely. It prompted a movement where Lelouch seemed to draw back, although their hands were still connected, and Suzaku made a protesting noise.

Nunnally also sat up to give her brother some room, although she seemed strangely excited with the way she couldn’t stop moving her feet back and forth.

“It’s just,” the prince looked flustered, “one way of making sure we wouldn't be separated if we're just— taken back, I guess. If we're useful to the empire, now that they know there's a _Liedmeister_ here, then at least I can—” He twitched, flushed, and then called out, “Nunnally, stop that!”

“Sorry!” the little girl responded, although she didn't sound the least bit apologetic. She did, however, stop elbowing Lelouch in the ribs several times a second in her excitement. “I just want to know what he's going to say!”

“What I'm going to say?” Suzaku echoed in confusion, still half caught up by the knots that his organs were trying to twist themselves into from the earlier confession.

Lelouch looked like he was about to say something in response to that, but Nunnally leaned forward and interrupted, “When my brother asks you to be his Knight of Honor, of course!”

There was a moment of silence as Suzaku struggled to process this, and Lelouch let go of the other boy’s hand just so he could bring his own hands to his cover his face and groan into them, also making funny pitched noises once in a while.

“Should I not have said that?” Nunnally seemed to ask herself, but then shook her head with the excuse and kicking her heels down into Suzaku’s thigh as she accuse her brother, “But you were going so slow!”

“You can’t ask that question for me, Nunnally!” Lelouch’s indignance was muffled behind his hands.

“I didn’t! But _you’re_ not supposed to tell people about the doll incident but you _do_ , so I have a free pass anyway!”

Suzaku’s brain latched onto the only thing he could make sense of in the conversation other than just how hilariously high Lelouch’s protesting squeaks seem to have gotten, “You mean that story with the scissors and matches and—”

This time, the little princess pointed a finger at him and shrieked, “ _No!_ ”

It… made him laugh. Seeing the embarrassment on both siblings, seeing Lelouch peek out from between his fingers and Nunnally leaning over to shake him, demanding childishly that he stop laughing at her… it brought about a warm feeling he thought lost forever. He told them the very worst part of himself, and they didn’t shun him for it. There was no other place for him other than by their sides, and no other place he wanted now.

Both royal children still looked rather red by the time he stopped laughing, and Suzaku couldn’t help his wide smile as he said, “Of course—”

“No!” Nunnally halted him again, and then tugged on her brother’s sleeve and hissed, “You’ve got to do this _properly_ . We _practiced_.”

Suzaku almost laughed again at that mental image, as Lelouch’s flush grew even darker, easily visible even in their current lighting. But the prince looked pleased, almost shy, at Suzaku’s quick and ready response.

“It won’t be easy,” Lelouch told him, finally managing to ignore his little sister’s whines about how he was doing it wrong. “Britannia’s set on conquering Japan now. That would make this place one of the Areas. And… the court is a nightmare. You’ll have to endure some of the stupidest people on the planet. Just being in the same room as them might risk your intelligence.”

“Mother said you have to learn to ignore them,” Nunnally sing-songed, “and that if you respond to them, even to prove them wrong, then that means they win.”

“The _stupidest_ ,” Lelouch emphasized again, stubborn. He stopped, though, looking like he needed a moment to catch his breath, and Suzaku reached out again, reminded of just how pale he looked still. “...I wish we could stay in Japan instead.”

Suzaku stopped, and thought that he didn’t want to stay.

Luckily, Lelouch didn’t seem to notice, as the prince sat up straighter to his sister’s delight, and this time said with far more of an authoritative voice, “Kururugi Suzaku, will you—”

Nunnally scrambled off his lap, “Wait, wait, you need to stand! And Suzaku, you need to kneel— and we need a _sword_ , and—”

Lelouch groaned at being interrupted _again_. “We don’t have a sword!”

“I picked up scissors?” Suzaku suggested innocently.

“We could use that,” Lelouch agreed, and Suzaku took that as agreement enough to pull the tool from the little side pouch of his bag, brandishing it triumphantly. “And I don’t want to stand up. And he shouldn’t have to kneel. He’s our friend.”

“You’re not doing it right,” Nunnally complained with a pout. “You have to do it _right,_ it’s important!” She turned her attention to Suzaku to explain, unprompted, “Mother was father’s knight, and they got _married_.”

This time Lelouch gave up the pretense of embarrassment, instead moving to wrestle his little sister to silence instead with a shout. Suzaku wondered if he was supposed to break them up, but then decided that if he interfered, he might just get bitten by— well, he would say Nunnally, but he wouldn’t put it past Lelouch, either.

“Properly!” Nunnally shrieked as a war cry, and then laughed as her brother moved to tickle her.

“We’ll do something proper later!” Lelouch finally relents as she attempted to climb over his head to sit on his shoulders, although she was too big to do that, and Lelouch was too small.

The impromptu fight apparently exhausted the siblings, enough that Lelouch just asked Suzaku instead, “Would you really be okay with it?”

“Yeah,” Suzaku agreed, feeling… right with the answer. This was what he wanted. Maybe this was all that was left for him, too. But even if he was given a choice— he always wanted to be a Knight of Honor, even when he didn’t really know what that was. Knowing what he did now, he wanted to be _Lelouch’s_ Knight of Honor.

This was right.

“Give me the scissors,” Lelouch said, and Suzaku handed it over curiously. The prince seemed to consider the tool for a moment, and then looked at his own hand before Nunnally thumped at his thigh from where she collapsed next to him.

“ _Proper_ ,” she protested one more time.

“The palm has a lot of nerve endings,” Lelouch told her. “And it takes longer to heal—” She thumped at his leg again, and he sighed and gave into her request this time, opening up the scissors before he brought one side of the blade to the skin of his palm as Suzaku made a worried noise over it.

It was a shallow cut, the blood barely welling up after the deed was already done, but Lelouch winced anyway before he handed the scissors over to Suzaku, and from the expectant stare from Nunnally, Suzaku didn’t comment on the strangeness, bringing the blade down to his own palm to see the little girl nodding enthusiastically.

“You don’t have to do that,” Lelouch told him, but Suzaku just smiled at him.

“Like a pact, right?” He asked. “It’ll be a promise between us.”

He didn’t know what it was that made Lelouch look at him wonderingly, but he liked it, and reached to clasp the prince’s hand, sealing the promise. It was— there was something strange about it, almost, like a tingling at the edge of his senses and something else— something strangely _open_ , but he focused more instead on Lelouch, who was staring at him with wide violet eyes.

“I promise I’ll stay with you, and keep you safe,” Suzaku declared, not knowing anything about the oaths of a knight, but he figured it had something to do with that. “And Nunnally, too.”

Strangely enough, the princess didn’t interrupt them this time, not even with a cheer, although she looked enraptured.

Lelouch’s responding smile was shyer, smaller, “And I promise that you’ll always have a place with me. To offer my protection as well, so that no one may doubt you.”

There was something supernatural about that moment, like feeling the effects of a Song or wrapping your hands around a sparkler and feeling the fizz of fire dangerously close but safe.

“And now,” Nunnally finally interrupted Lelouch and Suzaku, who still had their hands clasped together, “there’s no one in the empire who can take you away from us.”

She hesitated, and then grinned, “And Suzaku has to attend music classes with us! _Ha_! Can we give you permission to beat up Carine? Can you do it if we say it’s okay? Can we pretend that we didn’t know we weren’t supposed to give the okay?”

It made Lelouch huff out a laugh even as he dropped his head onto Suzaku’s shoulder again, and this time Suzaku responded in kind, wrapping his arms around the prince— _his_ prince, the one he swore loyalty to— a strange feeling coursing under his skin. Something tingly, but pleasant.

“Okay,” Lelouch told him, barely audible. “We’re going to be okay.”

 

—

 

Seven years later, the world broke apart. Soon after, so did Suzaku’s world.

But, he thought grimly as he dressed in the morning, adjusting a white uniform with gold tassels and embroidery, making sure everything was straight and tidy because even if people stared and whispered behind their hands when he walked past, he wasn’t going to give them the pleasure of criticizing his attire— he was stronger now.

One hand on the golden sword at his hip given to Knights of Honor, and the Japanese teenager stared blankly into the mirror for a long minute before he left his room and his thoughts behind, exiting the makeshift compound in search for his charge.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to end his search outside, to find a figure haloed in the morning sun until only a silhouette could be seen, outlined in light.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

Near glowing eyes turned to look at him, surprisingly blank and doll-like, and he felt a shiver of deja vu run through him.

“Suzaku… I… Sorry. I just had the strangest feeling.”

He stood at attention, awaiting an explanation that didn’t come. It never did, and it left Suzaku feeling hollow with the lack of trust. That… was his own fault, though.

He watched as his charge stepped back, hair stirring with the movement.

“You shouldn’t be outside by yourself,” Suzaku said. “Your sister will worry.”

“...Don’t go anywhere without my Knight of Honor… right?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Suzaku responded.

“Can you at least call me by name?”

Suzaku didn’t respond to that for a long moment, feeling nauseous and struggling a moment to school his expression into something that would be acceptable. Years in the background of court managed to teach him at least a thing or two, enough that he could manage the next words with a smile.

“...Of course, Princess Euphemia.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere out there, the budding JFL patted themselves on the back for evacuating a town almost a full hour before Britannia launched missiles at it. Scene not included was one where Lelouch tried to teach Suzaku the correct pronunciation of his name, while Suzaku deliberately messes it up each time to make him cringe.
> 
> Bonus doll incident involved a five year old Nunnally who one day labelled all her dolls with nicknames of politicians that their mother hated, and then held a pretend court instead of tea party and declared them all guilty and sentenced to the pretend guillotine she built from cardboard and paper. She then cut off their heads with scissors and burnt the dolls, drawing the attention of some knights when her curtains caught on fire, too. When she was taken to Marianne, Nunnally proudly declared that she avenged her. She was put in etiquette lessons the next day, but not before Marianne got the kitchens to bake a cake for her. And changed the fabrics in Lelouch's room to something more flame retardant in case he got _ideas_ , as well.


	3. Tempo Dolce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo, I'm still alive! So Camp NaNo is going really well in that I am _writing_ , but I'm, er. Apparently not working on Starlight like I thought I would be. Instead, there's nearly 50k more for _this_ story now, so I'll take the fact that I'm apparently in a writing frenzy as a win. Gino's chapter ended up being-- about 34k long, so it's being broken up into two. Usually during NaNo months I do absolutely nothing but write, but seeing as I needed a break, I went back to reread this chapter to see if I could edit out some typos and put it up, lol.  
> Now introducing the friendship you never asked for, but ya gunsta get anyway.

Gino Weinberg was fourteen when he first fell in love, and fifteen when he left the shelter of his family for the Imperial New Dover Military Academy, because he couldn’t stand how they (his family) treated other people anymore. By the time he was nearly sixteen, several Glaston Knights marched him off the campus for an interview with, presumably, Second Princess Cornelia li Britannia. 

It was a meeting that changed his life.

“I just wanted to reassure you,” Third Princess of the Empire, Euphemia li Britannia, said soothingly, “that you’re not in any trouble or anything! In fact, you’re here because your records are exceptional!”

“Um.” Gino started, eying the four Glaston Knights who were placed around the room, two surrounding the third princess and two guarding the only way out of the large audience chamber. Each of them glared back at him when he made eye contact, although their attention would return immediately to the princess and their guard duty. 

Princess Euphemia was beaming at him, cotton candy sweet with her pink hair pulled into a high ponytail, and a high-collared dress with sleek pencil skirt that made her look a little more professional despite the roundness of her cheeks and the wide indigo eyes. 

“Yeah,” Gino agreed slow, trying not to squirm in his (soft, overly stuffed) seat. He might have slumped down a little under the combined weight of those stares. “Sure thing, Your Highness.”

“No, really,” Euphemia insisted, her smile never faltering. She had one of the most genuine smiles Gino had seen, and seemed honestly sweet as she told him, “I’m sorry to have taken you from the Academy like that, but Cornelia insisted that I chose at least three people for the second stage…”

“Second stage, Your Highness?” Gino asked, glad to shift his attention elsewhere. 

“Just Euphemia is fine!” She insisted, and while he needed, he had a feeling that the knights in the room would strangle him if he attempted that informality. 

He gave her a cheerful grin, regardless, and amended, “Sure thing, Princess Euphemia,” because he wasn’t going to refuse the request but at the same time still wanted to keep his head without angering the knights watching him.

Her smile seemed to strain a little at the edges, but she moved on. “Regarding your test scores in the Academy—” 

Gino found himself scowling despite the company. “They weren't rigged. I can prove it.”

The princess didn't seem insulted by the sudden change in demeanor. If nothing else, she looked fascinated. “Can you?”

He grimaced, and nodded. None of the instructors at the Academy seemed happy with his scores either, even if Gino managed to take the simulation tests right in front of them over and over. There were plenty of demands to hand over whatever device allowed him the hack the systems, and even one instructor who ran him under a metal detector before allowing him into the simulation. Of course, this was balanced out by the handful of adults there who seemed genuinely impressed by his test scores and would pat him on the shoulders when he scored another result that blew the rest of the school out of the water.

“Don't worry,” they would tell him with a reassuring smile, “if nothing else, the Empire never lets talent like that go to waste.”

“Good!” Princess Euphemia exclaimed, looking cheesy despite the professional demeanour she appeared to be going for. She stood from her seat behind the heavy oak desk, and the Glaston Knights moved to allow her passage as she walked up to Gino, who hastily stood in her presence. “Then let's go, shall we?”

His smile froze in place. 

What?

—

Their little procession ended up in a laboratory, much to Gino’s dismay, although it wasn’t as bad as he feared when he saw it was mostly a mechanical hanger. He _was_ rather weary of the multiple people in lab coats and disgruntled expressions that seemed to glare blearily at them as they walked in, although their gazes softened upon Princess Euphemia. 

“It’s kind of strange, isn’t it?” the princess was saying to him, all chipperness and endearing sweetness as she gazed up at him with a smile, walking next to him rather than in front of him. “Can you believe that just ten years ago the qualifications of knighthood would have thrown people in a fighting ring to see who drew blood first?”

Gino didn’t want to remind her that the qualifications of knighthood _still_ included that, even if nowadays it was equally as important to be a good pilot, if not more so since wars were now fought behind the controls of a Knightmare Frame. 

He had a friend in the Academy— Anya Alstreim, who was nothing more than a tiny wisp of a little girl, who managed to rocket her way through the courses and had been selected by the Empire as a Knight of Rounds despite her tiny stature and young age. Gino thought he was fairly young to be selected as a candidate for knighthood— but Anya didn’t look anything like what people thought the traditional knight would look like at all, much less one of the best knights in the world. 

But then again, tiny Anya with her sleepy eyes and bouncy hair, was a small ball of rage when she had the energy for it, and could easily take down men thrice her size if prompted. Gino wasn’t at all surprised that she was recruited as one of the Emperor’s knights. 

Himself, on the other hand…

“It’s not that I’m going around looking for candidates,” the princess was still saying, looking just a tad nervous. He thinks that maybe she was the type to talk when uncertain, because she was parting with more information than he expected from a member of the royal family, “but Nellie— um. Princess Cornelia. She’s been saying that if I want to leave Pendragon, then it’s best to take a knight with me. That is, a Knight of Honor. I told her I could just take one of her Glaston Knights, but even Lelouch said that it was about time I started looking, so…”

Princess Cornelia, second Princess of the Empire, known for her military precision and fighting prowess as well as the multitudes of battles she had under her belt, and Prince Lelouch, who… well, not much was known about the Eleventh Prince publicly, but seeing as Gino’s family was still considered one of the higher of nobility, he recalled hearing his parents whisper about the Black Prince whose intellect and strategic sense was enough to challenge even Prince Schneizel. Rumors were that it was Prince Lelouch under the mask of Zero, the one who managed to conquer the whole of Europia under a span of two years with only minimal assistance from the Empire. 

It seemed Princess Euphemia, sweet as she was, spent her time with the most dangerous of the royal family. 

“Your Highness,” one of the scientists told her, smile wide and lazy as he eyed their group, “the schematics Princess Cornelia requested is ready.”

“Oh,” Princess Euphemia looked a little daunted in the face of the scientists. “I thought we might start with something a little easier?”

The Glaston Knights behind her looked a little exasperated, and seeing those expressions made Gino speak up, because it didn’t feel right for them to criticize her for having an opinion, and he didn’t want to see the raised eyebrows on the scientists as if they were ready to tell her that they’re there to adhere to Princess Cornelia’s orders and not hers. 

“I can do harder,” he grinned for her. “That might let me show off a little!”

She turned to stare up at him, a little worried and a little skeptical, and Gino made sure to relax his posture and throw his hands behind his head in a relaxed and confident manner. 

“I’m here to prove my test results weren’t rigged, right?” He asked, because that was the only real reason he could think of. Anything else seemed preposterous. “Then you don’t need to take it easy on me. The tests at the Academy were too easy, anyway.”

It was probably too boisterous of him to say, since the tests hadn’t been _easy_ per say, and he studied long and hard for them instead, but Gino rather wanted to see Princess Euphemia relax and smile, rather than see her so conflicted. A pretty girl like her didn’t deserve to be overlooked like that by everyone around her, just because they were more afraid of her sister. 

He just hoped he wouldn’t have to eat his words later. 

Gino turned his confident grin over to the scientists, and declared, “Knightmare simulations, right? I’m ready any time you are.”

“Oh-ho?” The scientist prodded at him. “We’ve got a confident one here!”

It was only then that Princess Euphemia seemed to give a somewhat nervous smile, and nodded in acquiescence. “...If you’re confident, then.”

“Your Highness,” Gino told her with the same easy grin, “I’m always confident!”

— 

If he had known that the simulation contained a _transformative Knightmare Frame_ , Gino might have eaten his words and backed off. 

As it was, he didn’t know until he was thrown into the simulation, and by the end of it, it was Euphemia smiling widely and with pride when Gino stumbled out of the test, dazed and overwhelmed, while the scientists were all abuzz with equal parts astonishment and bafflement. 

Euphemia sounded very smug when she told him that he passed the second stage, and to come back again the next day so he could speak with Princess Cornelia.

— 

If Gino had known that he would encounter more than just Princess Cornelia in Euphie’s general living quarters that next day, he might have thought twice about coming in for the interview. Or not have gone in at all. 

As it was, he felt intimidated enough knowing that he would be going in to meet the Second Princess, but it was a hesitation that he was able to cover up with a few nervous yanks of his school uniform so that by the time he worked up the courage to knock on Euphie’s door in order to meet her sister properly, he thought he had his nerves under control. 

He hadn’t been expecting the door to the opened by a foreign boy his age with eerie green eyes, or the voice in the background. 

“—not to mention, Guinevere can go _hang_ if she expects me to drop everything just so we can all go spruce up for Carine’s birthday, as if the rest of us don’t have responsibilities that we—” 

“Of course we have responsibilities,” and this was a voice that Gino recognized. Recognized and cringed at his own recognition even as the foreign boy at the door took one look at him and opened the door to allow him entrance, gesturing him to step inside quickly so he could close the door behind Gino. 

Gino did so nervously, stepping inside the room as Prince Schneizel, Second Prince of the Empire and most daunting of all the royal family for his cold and cruel strategies, sighed heavily and brought a hand to his face in a manner entirely uncharacteristic of his emotionless reputation. 

“More than that,” the Second Prince was saying, sounding the slightest bit irritated as he leaned back heavily in Euphemia’s usually welcoming armchair, “we have responsibilities to our own family, and that includes Guinevere and Carine.”

“I’m not going,” the original speaker snapped back (and who would dare to snap at Prince Schneizel? Gino was floored), tone short and angry. “She can’t keep _doing_ this. It’s like she knows exactly when the most inconvenient dates are for me! Why doesn’t she just—” 

“You are going, and that’s final,” Princess Cornelia snapped from where she stood behind Prince Schneizel’s seat. She was frowning heavily, although there was a strange tug on a corner of her lips as if the situation amused her. “You and your knight can afford to take a day off for Carine’s birthday, Lelouch. If you don’t attend hers, then why should she attend your seventeenth?”

“Oh, good,” and now that the speaker was identified, Gino spotted the figure seated in the other corner of the room, as if he could get away from them if he just hid in the shadows of Euphemia’s drawing room, arms crossed and scowling, “That’s one way of getting rid of her, then.”

Prince Schneizel still didn’t seem to realize they had a visitor yet, as he rubbed at the skin between his eyes wearily. “You need to set aside this feud with Carine at some point, Lelouch. The two of you are too old to be harboring grudges like this, and she is your little sister—” 

“She is _not_. She’s a gremlin in the form of a human being, and even that latter bit is debatable—”

“Not this again…” Prince Schneizel sighed, sounding world weary at that moment. 

“—and if I have to attend her birthday party, I will end up _setting her on fire_. If you don’t want me on trial for sororicide, then I’ll just get Suzaku to do it.”

“I can make it look like an accident,” the foreign boy next to Gino confirmed, and now that he was looking closely, the boy did have the straight-backed and at-attention posture of a Knight of Honor, combined with the traditional sword at the hip and an all black uniform that was indicative of the prince he served under. Fortunately, none of the royal family seemed to look up at the statement, although Cornelia certainly sighed in resignation. 

“I swear this is why Nunnally gets worse every time I see her,” Princess Cornelia murmured under her breath, although it was loud enough for all to hear, and Prince Lelouch actually looked proud at that statement. “She picks up on everything you do, and you are teaching her the _worst_ habits, Lelouch.”

“Nunnally is an angel and deserves better than the names that Carine calls her.” Lelouch denied vehemently. 

“Nunnally,” Schneizel countered slowly, “was caught leaving frogs in Carine’s bedroom last week.”

“I would have left scorpions,” Lelouch muttered, and then said louder, “it’s exactly what Carine deserves for attacking her with scissors last week!”

That seemed to make Cornelia stand straighter, looking alarmed. “What?”

“I had to cut her hair to even it out,” Lelouch continued, indignant, “and it would have cut her face if Rolo hadn’t pulled her back in time. Carine thought it was _funny_. When I confronted her about it, she said she wasn’t sorry at all, because she wanted to see if Nunnally even deserved a place in our family, and that she’d only accept her if her blood was _blue_. But if I need a better excuse, then I have a treatise to sign on that day, one that I worked the last three months to get, and if Carine ruins it for me, imperial princess or not, _I will throw her out a window_.”

“You’re certainly not strong enough to do such a thing.” Schneizel responded, although now his tone held a hint of mirth as well. 

“I will get Suzaku to do it for me.”

The boy next to Gino, whose height barely reached Gino’s shoulders, only tipped his head forward in agreement. 

“You can’t send your knight to do everything for you. Sir Clermont would get involved as well in that case.”

“Suzaku can handle that jerk.” Prince Lelouch muttered rebelliously, looking extremely young as he glared out at his older siblings from under the fringe of his hair.

“I don’t doubt Sir Kururugi’s skill,” Prince Schneizel appeased, “only the reach of his arm. The both of you are still young and inexperienced. Choose your battles wisely.”

The younger prince looked insulted, about to say something no doubt inflammatory before he was interrupted by Cornelia, who seemed to have come to a decision. 

“One hour,” she told him, raising a hand to his protests. She looked down toward the Second Prince for confirmation, and Schneizel thought a moment before he nodded in agreement. “You will attend her party for one hour and not pick any fights, and then you’ll be allowed to leave.”

“I’d rather shoot myself than have to attend and be nice to her for even one minute!”

Schneizel looked pained at the statement, and added, “And you can take Nunnally with you when you leave. Don’t think your little trips out to the city haven’t been noted. I want the two of you home before Carine’s party ends, but where the two of you go will be up to you.”

That seemed to stall Lelouch’s complaints, and he sat up. “...Just an hour, then?”

“A _full hour_ ,” Princess Cornelia emphasized. “You will be polite. _Smile_. You will dress for the occasion and wish her a happy birthday in a manner befitting a prince of Britannia and as her older brother. You will not pick fights, and you will not insult anyone, indirectly or not. And you will get Nunnally to do the same!”

“I won’t throw her out the window or set her on fire,” The younger prince promised eagerly. 

“I suppose that’s the best we’ll get.” Cornelia muttered, before gesturing at Lelouch with a finger. “Fine. Now scram, brat. I’ve got other meetings.”

He got up and headed in the direction of his knight, who fell into step with him immediately, although Prince Lelouch did stop for just a moment to give Gino a contemplative look when he realized there was an intruder to their conversation. Gino, for his part, tried his best to look like he was supposed to be there all along, doing his best to imitate the standard knight pose of standing straighter than a ruler and having his hands clasped together behind him. 

As the door closed behind Prince Lelouch and his knight, Princess Cornelia’s shoulders slumped a bit in exhaustion and she brought a hand up to rub at her eyes. 

“I don’t recall him being quite this troublesome,” Prince Schneizel said with an aggrieved exhale. He also had a hand over his face, and looked drained just from dealing with his younger brother. 

Princess Cornelia gave a gentle laugh. “He’s spent the past two years winning a war, and now he’s home, he’s bored, and you’re not paying enough attention to him. Of course he’s going to be troublesome. You used to have him study in the same room as your meetings, and now you’re checking up on him barely twice a week.”

“I’ve been informed that most teenagers misbehave in search for more freedom, not less.”

“I’m sure Lelouch strives to be anything but a normal teenager,” Cornelia responded dryly. “Even so, maybe this, then: perhaps he just misses his big brother.”

There was a long, fond moment before Schneizel, Second Prince of the Empire and renown for his ruthless and cold precision, smiled ruefully and dropped his hand. “I should endeavour to dedicate more time and attention for him… correct?”

“Bring him to some of your meetings as Prime Minister. He may prove to have some valuable insight.”

“He may also insult every world leader he meets on the days he feels like being a nuisance.”

“Not everyone can be as sweet as Euphie,” Princess Cornelia preened. “Speaking of which, the knight-errant she wanted me to meet—”

There were moments in Gino’s life where he felt stuck in a never ending social nightmare: when caught between his parents as they argued, when caught red handed in the middle of a prank his friends set up as school and then handed him the items before they bolted because the teachers were coming, and now, when Princess Cornelia turned her head to see that he had been in the room all along, and the little and sincere smile just— dropped from her face. 

It wasn't his fault, Gino wanted to protest as he felt sweat gather at the back of his neck, just when was he supposed to have interrupted in their conversation? He didn't think he was allowed to interrupt, and by the time Prince Lelouch left, Gino thought himself in too deep a hole to do so and— panicked, and just stayed quiet on the tiny off-chance they might not notice him entirely until he was meant to come in. 

It probably wasn't the best choice he ever made, from the look on Princess Cornelia’s face, and then Prince Schneizel’s curious regard which soon turned cool and stoic. 

“How long have you been standing there?” Cornelia demanded, posture hostile. “Who let you in?”

“Uh.” Name, name! “Sir Kururugi, Your Highness.”

He wasn't sure he wanted to mention how long he had been standing there, or how much of their conversation he accidentally managed to overhear. 

“Of course it was,” the princess groused. “I should have known. You're Euphemia’s choice, then?”

Was he? “Yes, Your Highness.”

“If that's the case, he was bound to hear all of this at some point.” Prince Schneizel pointed out, although the way he sat back on the armchair was far more elegant and refined than earlier, aware of an audience this time. Gino thought it strange for a moment that the royal family was so unaware of their surroundings, but then recalled the scores of guards he passed just walking down the hallway. If they weren't allowed to relax their guard here in the middle of private quarters in Pendragon, then where would they be able to relax? 

“Earl Asplund informs me that your KMF scores are impeccable. On par with a Knight of Rounds, even.” Cornelia told him coolly, and Gino nearly panicked right then and there, sweat starting to form under his hairline at her glare. 

Wasn’t that a good thing? Why did she look so irritated?

“I wouldn’t know, Your Highness,” he blurted out, “I didn’t exactly see the results. Too busy trying not to die.”

Princess Cornelia raised an eyebrow at him, and then turned to the Second Prince to say, “They must all be twerps at that age.”

...Gino didn’t think that statement was very fair.

There was a knock on the door again, and this time it was opened unprompted, and a young man with rose-gold hair and an unassuming smile peeked in, “Apologies for interrupting. Prince Schneizel, you have an important call to take.”

“I suppose that marks the end of this recess.” The Second Prince said as he pushed himself up from the armchair, as graceful as ever. “Well, then. If you’ll excuse me, sister…”

It was strangely bemusing to see Princess Cornelia’s expression change so quickly. “Of course. I’ll keep you updated on the situation. And Earl Maldini, you should join us next time.”

“I will be sure to try,” the man at the door said, smile softening just the slightest bit as he held the door open wider for Prince Schneizel to leave through.

Gino waited as they left, and then Cornelia went to sit behind Euphemia’s desk, looking a little frazzled before she seemed to straighten up and brush off all imperfections with a frown. 

“Now then,” she said, and this time Gino gulped. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

— 

“Favorite, hmm… holiday?”

“Any single day holiday is a good holiday,” Gino responded diligently, blowing up at the leaf that landed on his hair.

“That’s not a good enough answer,” Princess Euphemia informed him indignantly. 

It was true, though. He liked having a break and a day to sleep in with nothing at all to do, and at the same time he didn’t favor the long holidays that required family obligations and far away trips. If it was only a day, then he could plead for a overloaded schedule. If it was two weeks, then he had no excuses to turn to. 

They were relaxing in one of the numerous gardens at Pendragon Palace, and while Gino as a child never understood the need for so many gardens and so much space, now he was appreciating the fact that if anyone came to look for them, they might search through at least half a dozen other gardens before finding them. That was if the search party found them halfway through their search of the palace gardens. 

A week since their first meeting, and Gino could rightfully say that Princess Euphemia li Britannia had to be one of his favorite people in the world now. She was genuine and kind in a way that he wasn’t used to, and cheery in a manner that made _him_ want to be cheery and happy as well. 

He wasn’t used to that. Gino was used to being one of the only people in the room willing to smile for others, rather than the one smiled at. 

“Okay, then, so what’s your favorite holiday?” He asked instead, watching as Euphemia (“ _Euphie!_ ” she continued to press on him) flopped onto her back regardless of the grass stains she was going to accumulate on her white and pale pink dress. 

It was the perfect day for an outdoor picnic, and they brought out a basket between the two of them, half loaded with the expected tea and sandwiches, and the other half loaded with junk food that Gino managed to sneak in from the outside. 

“Every holiday!” Euphemia said with a smile, braiding the stems of flowers together with nimble fingers. “Every holiday Cornelia gets off, even if she doesn’t have the time to see me. She works way too hard, and every holiday she gets some extra rest is a good one.”

He… he could hardly stand it, she was such a _sweet_ person. 

Not only sweet, her idealism and values were— more than Gino could ever have hoped to find from the royal family. He once left his home and family because he couldn't bring himself to agree with their xenophobic and outdated beliefs, and now he thinks… he could stay with Princess Euphemia for those very same ideals and how they never crossed her mind. 

It was odd, when Princess Cornelia was known for her… “distaste” for non-Britannians, and for raising and favouring Princess Euphemia above all her siblings. 

Yet Euphemia was a happy and loving girl who never seemed to think differently of those from different nationalities, especially considering her bright greetings to Sir Kururugi whenever they encountered him and Prince Lelouch. Both she and the vi Britannia siblings tended to stay together during the day when they could, which Euphemia explained as having grown up together on the Aries Villa because Cornelia had been the late Empress Marianne’s captain of the guard. 

Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally were both just as odd as Princess Euphemia, usually watching Gino curiously whenever Euphemia brought along her would-be knight to their outings. Sirs Kururugi and Haliburton never commented, yet seemed to be watching just the same.

Gino didn't need Euphemia to tell her that the vi Britannia siblings were more than a little unusual, not when it was fairly common knowledge from the court that Prince Lelouch acquired his knight at the age of ten, and Princess Nunnally at age eleven. That was strangely young, even for royal standards. 

“Oh,” Euphemia just shrugged when Gino brought that up. “They had to! Suzaku was knighted before Area 11 was established, so as a technicality no one is allowed to call him an Eleven, and Nunnally needed a knight since Lelouch wasn't going to leave her here by herself when he got sent off to the EU. Rolo’s so cute, isn't he? They're almost like twins! We celebrate their birthday together and everything.”

It… explained nothing. 

“And you didn't need a knight until now?” Gino asked instead, eager to hear more about Euphie than her siblings, even the ones who were her favourite playmates. 

“I've only ever left Pendragon a few times before.” Euphemia was looking up at the leaves above them, arms spread wide on the grass. “When I did, it was usually with Nellie, and sometimes on vacation in areas that were already cleared. She promised I'd be able to see more of the world after I finished my studies, but I just… missed everyone whenever they'd leave.”

Out of everyone, Euphemia was the only one constantly left behind like that, and Gino felt for her. 

“You've finished your studies, then?” He asked instead, hoping to change the topic for her. “That's amazing!”

Euphie beamed at him, but shook her head. 

“Not yet, but…” she smiled. “Can I share a secret?”

“Of course,” he told her in all seriousness, crossing his heart. “I'd never tell anyone.”

She leaned over then and whispered in his ear as Gino strained to listen, about Songs and secrets, and the recent discovery that Princess Euphemia was, indeed, a legitimate contender for the throne. 

“Both Nellie and Schneizel knew by the time they were six. Lelouch and Marrybell found out when they were ten. Clovis knew by twelve. And Carine figured out how the Sing by age five! I guess I'm a bit of a late bloomer.”

“That's…” Gino was at a loss for words. He… he was going to be a Knight of Honor to a _Liedmeister_? There were usually only a handful in each generation, although the current Emperor was certainly trying to set a record with the amount of children he had. 

There was something special about the Knights of _Liedmeisters_ , something almost supernatural. While all knights were awarded with an energy of sorts that they attributed to their loyalty and honour, those contacted with _Liedmeisters_ were observably stronger and faster, sometimes with limited access to their elemental songs. 

A Knight of Honor for a prince or princess connected to water would never suffer from dehydration. For air, the ability to breathe at all altitudes. Fire meant that they never froze in the worst environments. Earth provided a physical resilience and stamina that outlasted the most devout of athletes. 

“Shouldn't… shouldn't your safety be trusted to someone like a Knight of Rounds, then?” Gino exclaimed, suddenly unsure about his placement. It was one thing to be considered for the position of a Knight of Honor, another thing to realize that if something happened to Euphemia, then Princess Cornelia would have his head on a pike, and then… another level even after that to know he would be guarding a _Liedmeister_.

“That’s what Cornelia said!” Euphie agreed almost cheerfully, but then she shifted and raised a finger in his direction, “but Nunnally said that my knight had to be someone I liked and got along with— and I agree! There’s no point in getting a stuffy shadow who wouldn’t understand me, right? So Cornelia gave me two weeks and helped me look for people, and—” 

“I’m not stuffy?” Gino concluded with amusement. 

“You’re not stuffy.” Euphie agreed with a smile. “I feel like… like I can just talk to you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“That’s a fantastic thing.” Euphie told him fondly. 

— 

The knighting ceremony went off without a hitch, over the top and broadcasted around the world, revealing both Gino Weinberg as the Knight of Honor to Princess Euphemia li Britannia, and also revealing Euphemia as a contender for the throne, all at once. 

Euphie looked absolutely gorgeous, dressed in pink and white silks with her hair woven around curling platinum strands of an ivy crown endowed with precious gems. The very picture of a princess of Britannia, and one of the handful of princesses who might have the chance to sit atop the very throne of Britannia. 

Gino, on the other hand, felt awkward and stilted in the thick linens and brocades that made up his knight uniform and capelet, the material extra stiff and starched for the occasion and hard to move in when in conjunction with the bullet-proof vest he had to wear underneath, his boots polishing to shining and the metals pinned to his clothes inordinately heavy, real gold and silver through and through. 

The only lucky part was that he wasn’t the only one in the white and gold uniform at the ceremony, although his had all the extra bells and whistles being the knight celebrated on this occasion, and even his hair felt wrong on his head, far too coiffed and heavy with products. 

“I feel like a giant dress-up doll,” he complained to Euphie in a murmur, and she giggled behind a handkerchief, ever the posture of a perfect princess. 

“Welcome to my world,” she told him brightly, smile endearing enough that he softened. “My head is killing me— I think everything on my head adds up to a good six pounds. My earrings want to pull my ears off.”

“Ouch,” he said in sympathy, because at least he wasn’t weighed down by the jewelry she was. 

If the televised ceremony wasn’t pompous enough, the soiree afterwards seemed to strain even Euphie’s bright smile, plenty of overly thin ladies in shining silks and actively hiding their expressions behind embroidered fans coming to congratulate Euphemia personally and sway favor with her. Plenty of lords with leers and groomed mustaches whose eyes and touch lingered just a bit too long for appropriate, but not long enough for Gino to have reason to threaten them. 

“What’s their deals?” Gino murmured as Euphemia’s smile strained a little more as an older lord held her hand to his lips for a little too long, grip tight enough that she couldn’t pull away without causing a minor commotion. 

“Six months ago her only worth to them would have been a political marriage since she wasn’t a contender for the throne, princess or not,” the answer came from behind him. He turned with a start to see Prince Lelouch, with Princess Nunnally on his arm, the both of them dolled up for the occasion as much as Euphemia was, although Nunnally’s outfit looked a little lighter, still a tad childish in respect for her age, wearing an innocent white that contrasted with her brother’s black and silver. “Now her decisions will hold actual weight, and they can’t ignore her anymore. Even if they snagged a marriage contract, she would be the one holding power in that marriage.”

“Your Highnesses,” Gino greeted amiably, bowing even as he kept an eye on Euphemia and her comfort levels. He could see their knights, Sir Kururugi and Sir Haliburton, standing half a step behind them, both in the traditional white and gold uniform that Gino was now also sporting, the formal dress required for Knights of Honor in ceremonies like this. It was almost strange to see them in such light colors, since Gino had gotten used to seeing them in darker uniforms. 

“Sir Weinberg,” the prince greeted back, and Princess Nunnally curtsied slightly as well. “Congratulations are in order.”

While Princess Nunnally wore no jewellry save for the bows and lace on her dress, Prince Lelouch was as heavily laden as Princess Euphemia, denoting his status as heir as well, although his was cleverly hidden, the black and silver metals only gleaming with movement caught through his dark hair, and the pieces twined around his ear and up his hand thinner and sharper than Euphemia’s classic display of wealth and power. 

If there was one thing to be said about the royal family, Gino thought with a slight flush as violet eyes watched him curiously, it was that they were all exceedingly beautiful people. Even the vi Britannias, who took on different colorings of their parents, had the same delicate bone structure and perfect skin and stare that nearly glowed with how bright their eyes were. 

“Ahh— yeah, thanks,” Gino said, and then flushed more as he caught his own informal tone. “I mean— thank you, Your Highness.”

“No need to stand on formality anymore,” Princess Nunnally spoke up sweetly. “You’re family now. Knights of Honor are for life. So if you’re stuck with Euphie, then you’re stuck with us!”

“Till death do you part,” Prince Lelouch added sarcastically with a snort, and his sister elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “Ow. You’re the one who made that joke originally.”

“I was seven,” the young princess said airily, “so you should know better.”

He had seen the two light hearted and joking with Euphemia before, but this was the first time they deigned to do that with him, and Gino gave a hesitant, nervous smile. 

“I’d offer warnings about the court,” Prince Lelouch said, “but seeing as you’re the perfect picture of everything Cornelia wants as a knight for Euphemia, I’d say you’re safe for now. Keep up being you, and she might not threaten to eviscerate you in the near future.”

Gino paled. 

“Oh, I almost forgot about those times,” Nunnally said brightly, “I think Rolo pulled a knife on her when she gave that threat. Didn’t Suzaku literally run away?”

“I proved myself faster than her at age ten, yes,” Sir Kururugi corrected from behind them, sounding amused.

“Cornelia does hold a favor for nobility instead,” Lelouch agreed. 

“I did offer to marry Suzaku,” Nunnally confided with an impish smile, “and Lelouch said we’d adopt Rolo into the family if that would make her feel better.”

Gino couldn’t help the bark of laughter. “Would that— would that even work?”

“Who knows?” Princess Nunnally asked airily, although her wide smile divulged her amusement. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lelouch said, and Nunnally poked him in the arm as the Second Princess of the Empire stepped close enough to hear them, “Hello, sister. You’re looking particularly pleased today. Boiled any little children alive to eat yet?”

“You look beautiful as usual, Nellie,” Nunnally offered instead. 

It was a rare occasion for the Second Princess to not be in her military uniform, but even she resigned herself to a gown and finery for the day, looking quite uncomfortable in the long burgundy skirt and jeweled bodice, complete with the very same precious metals twined around her head announcing her as _Liedmeister_ and potential heir to the throne, hers a white gold that put her on display. Her outfit was far more modest than most in the room, with fabric that synched up at her throat, and tight black gloves that extended up past her elbows.

“Nunnally,” Princess Cornelia greeted sweetly, and then turned to Lelouch, “Demon spawn.”

“I learned from the best,” Lelouch seemed to agree, smiling as sweet as Nunnally.

“I see you’re still seventeen going on sixty in cynicism.” Cornelia observed, although there was a smile that tugged on her painted lips. “Schneizel’s been looking for you.”

“I know,” Lelouch lamented. “I’ve been avoiding him.”

“Well, you can voluntarily report in to him now, or he’ll come find you anyway, and then the scolding for whatever you did this time will be worse.” Cornelia told him. “And I’m unwilling to deal with the histrionics today.”

“Fine,” the prince relented with an explosive sigh. “Abandon me to my torment, then.”

“What did I say about histrionics?” Cornelia asked, and then said, “Leave Nunnally here, though. She’s still sweet and innocent, and it’d be good for her to spend time away from you.”

Princess Nunnally giggled, but willingly untangled herself from her brother’s arm, although not before he gave her a fond pat on the head. 

He left easily with Sir Kururugi in tow, the knight laughing quietly at whatever the prince was complaining about as they walked away.

“Oh, Nunnally,” the second princess lamented with a smile, “you could do with a much better role model.”

“Oh, but I already have the best.” The younger princess said brightly, even as she entangled her arm with Sir Haliburton instead now, smiling at her knight before turning to Cornelia. “Who else is going to teach me the chemicals I need to plant a smoke bomb, or how to short-circuit electronic locks?”

“That was—? No, I don’t want to know. That is not,” Cornelia emphasized, “something a princess should know. That is not something Lelouch should know, either! Where is he even learning this?”

“The internet?” Nunnally suggested. 

“We’re going to get flagged by our own security,” Cornelia groused. “And then I’ll be the one forced to explain this mess to Sir Waldstein.”

Nunnally only scrunched up her nose in protest, and turned her attention to Gino. “If you’re going to be Euphie’s knight from now on, you need to promise me that you’ll never cater to everything Sir Waldstein says.”

“He can’t make that promise,” Cornelia dismissed even before Gino could answer. “The Knights of Rounds answer to no one but the Emperor himself, and if Sir Waldstein says jump, then I expect you to jump, Weinberg.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Gino said quickly. 

“I would never ask Rolo to do whatever Sir Waldstein says,” Nunnally pouted. “And I don’t think Euphie would make Gino do it, either. Rolo, you’d listen to me over Bismark, right?”

“Of course,” the young knight agreed easily. 

“You’re my favorite.” Nunnally told him. 

“You _have_ been spending too much time with Lelouch,” Cornelia observed dryly. “There’s a hierarchy of power even we need to follow, Nunnally.”

Nunnally seemed to ignore that, instead telling Gino, “ _Sir_ Waldstein tried to suggest to father that I’d be better off sold in a political marriage when it was brought up to him that I need glasses. I was twelve. He’s the one who made the suggestion to send my brother to the battlefront, and then managed to pass the decree when Lelouch was fourteen. That’s why we missed so much of court recently, you know, because we’ve literally been at the front of the past two wars, with Sir Waldstein hoping we’d die off before the war ended.”

“So you don’t like him,” Gino concluded, figuring it was best to point out the obvious than make a wrong assumption. 

“I wouldn’t piss on him if he were on fire,” Nunnally agreed with such cheer that it took a second before Cornelia made a noise of affront at the language. 

“ _Nunnally_.” She scolded harshly, “if that’s the case, you shouldn’t let him steal your dignity as a princess away, too. Watch what you say.”

“Okay,” the younger princess agreed readily, “I’ll be an adult in four years, anyway. Then I can just challenge him to a duel for my honor, and I want to see his face when I beat him.”

“I would happily fight him now for you now if that’s your wish,” her knight told her and she gifted him with a smile, but shook her head. 

“No, I want to be the one to stomp his head down.” She said. “But I can wait. Lelouch always said patience is very important.”

“Of all the lessons to learn from him,” Cornelia lamented, and raised a manicured hand to her temple. 

“Learn what lessons from who?” Euphie asked, coming up from behind Cornelia with a polite smile, although she was discretely wiping the back of her hands on her dress. “No one came to save me from Earl Gardner, so I had to save myself.”

“Gloves are an excellent investment,” Cornelia advised with a wry smile, having caught the movement. “Less slobber.”

Euphemia made her way over to Gino, who offered an elbow for her with all the grace that had been drilled into him the past several weeks. 

“I can’t wait until this is over,” Euphie said with that same ready smile, looking about a little cautiously as if making sure no one would overhear the complaint, and if anyone looked in their direction, all they would see would be an amiable conversation. “How heavy is this dress, anyway?”

“Only about thirty pounds,” Cornelia answered for her, and Nunnally grimaced in sympathy. “The top layers are mostly silk. I asked for lighter materials specifically— my inaugural dress was about twice the weight.”

“How did you do it?” Euphie asked, her lips stuck in that pleasant smile even though her tone was pleading. “I have such a headache. My neck is killing me.”

“You get used to it and learn not to tilt your head in any direction. If someone hands you anything, always make sure to bring it up to your face to look at it; don’t look down at it. And look with your eyes, not with your head.”

“Oh wow,” Nunnally breathed, eyes wide, “that sounds awful.”

“It is,” Euphie confirmed, and squeezed Gino’s arm, as Cornelia commented that ‘gold is heavy’. “...I’d never want to be Empress.”

“No free time,” Nunnally agreed with her. “Everything you do is judged by the world. Awful clothes. No sneaking out anymore because _everyone_ would know who you are.”

“Speaking of which,” Euphie said brightly, “so I saw Lelouch sneaking out with Suzaku earlier…”

“What?” Cornelia demanded, tensing. She scowled, and hitched up her skirts slightly to reveal what looked like combat boots underneath, and called out for her knight in a sharp tone before grimacing, “ _That boy_. I told him to find Schneizel!”

She stomped away in a huff, several other members of the party parting ways in front of her like the Red Sea, backing away from her indignation. 

They were quiet for a moment, watching her go, before Nunnally commented, “He wouldn’t leave without me.”

“I owe him a milkshake later,” Euphemia seemed to agree, before tugging on Gino’s arm with a smile that was far more genuine, “Come on. If we go in a group, then we can pretend we were just in the gardens when they can’t find us, and I can get off my feet and maybe put my head down for a while. I really need to take these earrings off before my head tries to fall off.”

“I want a milkshake too,” Nunnally wheedled, but readily agreed. “But I don’t want your head to fall off.”

Euphemia extended a hand for Nunnally, and the two half-sisters led the way as Gino and Rolo fell into step behind them, easily bypassing the crowd this time as Nunnally pleaded feeling slightly ill and needing air, and Euphemia begged off on interactions in order to escort her little sister safely. 

“Music room,” Nunnally suggested, and Euphemia must have agreed, because once they were out of the main dance hall, they seemed to have a direction in mind. The two princesses made their way down the palace corridors, attempting to stay out of the way of servants and maids carrying plates of hors d'oeuvres and champagne. 

“You’ll know the way soon enough,” Euphie told Gino when she looked back at him, likely catching his confusion. “No one gets to skip out of music lessons. Not even in battle— Cornelia has tutors who accompany the Glaston Knights, since all Knights are supposed to know musical instruments as well…”

“The Black Knights have tutors, too,” Nunnally said, like a secret. “Unless you’re missing an arm or something, and then you start over with another instrument... it’s twice a week, no excuses—” 

The turned down a hallway with a series of grand doors, Euphemia pushing in the very first room, revealing a stately chamber with high, vaulted ceilings and dark, polished wood detailing alongside smooth white limestone, filled with dark wood chairs and black metal music stands, plush couches lining the walls next to large clear cubbies easily display what looked to be expensive and old instruments behind glass. 

“It’s tradition to play at least two instruments,” Euphie told Gino, closing the door behind the group as they entered the grand music room. “Even though that’s a bit outdated now. One instrument for orchestra, and one that we can take along with us without risking damage to it. We don’t have to do that anymore, so we can choose any two instruments we want.”

“The key is to have one be portable,” Nunnally filled in, “which works with most electric instruments nowadays, but it’s still a pain to carry around a harp, electric or not.”

“You tried to fight me over that,” Euphemia said with a laugh. 

“I made a mistake,” Nunnally lamented, although she did move toward a direction where a large gold and laminate harp was displayed, sitting herself comfortably behind it with a pleased look as she ran her hands down the wood. “The electric one is still heavy.”

“That’s why we have to know at least two instruments,” Euphie told Gino, who felt awkward just standing near the doorway while the others seemed to know exactly where to go. Euphemia headed toward one of the closer plush couches, giving a relieved sigh as she sat down and managed to kick off her heels, and then carefully lowered herself on her side, giving a groan as her head rested against the armrest carefully to not disturb her hairstyle.

“Which instruments do you play?” Nunnally asked from where she sat at the harp, fiddling with the tuning pegs as she plucked lightly at a few strings. Rolo claimed the seat next to her, his posture much more relaxed now that he wasn’t in the presence of others, constantly on the lookout for threats. 

“I— my parents didn’t care which instrument I played, so I chose the tuba.” Gino admitted, “I didn’t get to practice much. Not unless they were out of the house.”

Euphie laughed from where she lay on the couch. “That’s like Nellie! She picked the drums a long time ago, just to be loud, I think. And because the music tutors _hated_ it. They always said it wasn’t a proper instrument, but she’s amazing at it! It’s incredible to hear her playing. I don’t know how she manages to make that many sounds so fast.”

“She picked the coolest instruments,” Nunnally agreed. 

Euphemia was pulling out her earrings at this point, and slipping off the rings and bracelets off her hands, tossing them onto the couch carelessly. She poked at the metals braided into her hair, but didn’t seem inclined to attempt to untangle that. 

“We’ll get you a good instrument before you start music lessons with us,” Euphie told an overwhelmed Gino, smiling. “Contrabass or bass?”

“Not sure I got that far,” Gino told her, “Apparently I really have no musical sense.”

Euphemia and Nunnally shared a look across the room. 

“Tambourine?” Euphie suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Rolo protested, and Nunnally burst out laughing. She strummed out an octave, and Euphie smiled and closed her eyes. 

“At least you got musical tutoring,” Nunnally told him with a giggle, fingers weaving on the strings. “We had to start from scratch with poor Suzaku and Rolo. But they’re good with rhythm, and they’ve gotten really far!”

“Not me,” Rolo lamented quietly, and for the first time, Gino felt like he might actually have something in common with the younger knight. 

“You’re really coming along,” Nunnally told him, “the rest of us have an unfair advantage of being forced to read sheet music the moment we open our eyes. If we’re not world class musicians by our teens, then obviously we’re the black sheep of the family and shouldn’t be mentioned in polite society.”

“It’s not that bad,” Euphemia corrected, head still on the armrest. “I mean, there are really only four songs we’re _required_ to master, in different variations.”

“Four songs _you’ll_ be required to master, in different variations,” Nunnally sing-songed at Gino. 

He had known that already, although Gino originally suspected that he would be required to master _one_ thanks to Princess Euphemia’s affinity. 

The Song of Water was a simple and sweet one, in comparison to the others. Slow and melodic, flowing the way water flowed. Light and cheerful, Gino had been astounded the first time Euphie Sang it, bare feet kicking up the water of the fountain they had been sitting next to as she twirled in her skirts, emitting a soft blue glow until the droplets of water stayed floating and refracting light prisms above them like suspended raindrops.

She hadn’t done it since, but Gino recalled fondly her delighted laughter as he sputtered at the sight. 

“Music, harmony, other instruments… they act as amplifiers,” Euphie told him that time in the gardens, after all the water rained back down upon them. “Makes it easier for us to Sing. I’ve seen Cornelia actually rain down fire like meteors with a proper orchestra behind her, and normal days she lights candles. So it’s important for the royal family and all their knights to be able to play instruments… and play them well.”

Now, he watched as Euphie giggled while Nunnally played a little ditty on her harp, urging on Rolo who had taken a trumpet out from the glass cabinets, and was giving loud toots at appropriate intervals that made Euphemia laugh until tears gathered in her eyes.

“Don’t laugh!” Nunnally shouted, although she too was giggling, “At least he’s on beat!”

“You can pick what you like,” Euphemia told Gino, dabbing at her eyes in an attempt to preserve her makeup, “each of the music rooms has all the orchestral instruments, so we can practice privately or with others, and don’t have to disturb people who have already taken rooms. I’m sure the tuba’s here, and you’re welcome to explore. This room is for you too, now.”

“All the rooms are soundproofed,” Nunnally added, giggling again and Rolo made a screeching sound with his trumpet. “So you don’t need to worry about anyone overhearing.”

“I sound like him,” Gino pointed out cheerfully, pointing over at Rolo where the younger knight was concentrating exceedingly hard on his instrument. “But louder.”

“That’s great!” Euphie said, now sitting up again with a smile, “Rolo’s been very dedicated to learning. Here, I’ll get my flute as well—” 

She paddled barefoot to a cabinet to pull out a silvery flute, and then shuffled her way back to the couch instead of one of the music chairs, and waited for Gino with the instrument in her lap.

“Uhh.” He wasn’t sure what to do, so Gino roamed the perimeter of the room while listening to Nunnally and Rolo play around, barely daring to touch anything at all. The tuba was actually at the far end of the room, placed next to other large brass instruments, shining and polished, and heavy when Gino pulled it out, feeling extremely self-conscious knowing that he hadn’t played in several years. 

“Go on, go on,” Euphie told him excitedly as he walked back to her, sitting himself on the armrest of her couch. She raised her flute delicately, eyes bright, “Play something. I’ll accompany you.”

Gino adjusted the heavy instrument in his lap, twisted a bit at the mouthpieces nervously, and carefully put his fingers where the valves were, and then very carefully… blew as hard as he could into the tuba. 

There was no sound, and both Rolo and Nunnally burst out laughing where they had fallen silent waiting for him, even Euphie moving her flute to try and hide her smile. 

— 

The months that followed saw Gino swamped with lessons and drills, and the beginning of a slight caffeine addiction as he struggled to cram as much information into his head and muscle memory as possible while tutors frowned disapprovingly down at him and he slowly got to know Sir Kururugi and Sir Haliburton— Suzaku and Rolo— better. Rolo was the youngest knight among them, but remarkably cold and closed off unless in the presence of the vi Britannias, and then he… changed. Almost scarily so. 

“It’s just his coping mechanism,” Suzaku told him once with a shrug as a drill sergeant walked up and down the line of the younger knights, all made to disassemble and clean firearms for practice. Rolo was at the table next to them, silent and still, already done with his repertoire and standing at attention. 

It was near frightening how… robotic the younger boy seemed, at times. Sometimes Suzaku seemed the same as well, cold and detached in the presence of others, but that was a little more understandable with the manner in which a portion of the court seemed to sneer at his presence and whisper demeaning comments behind his back. 

Other than the occasional gripes about his young age, however, no one seemed willing to insult Rolo, noble ladies often clutching their fans and skirts a little tighter before they hurried away from his presence, never mind the fact that he still looked like a child playing dress-up in his knight gear. 

It was only Euphemia and Nunnally who would go out of their way to coo over his cute Rolo was at times, encouraging him in his endeavors and trying to include him in activities. But then, Rolo’s behavior was drastically different with Princess Nunnally and Prince Lelouch, softening into a wide-eyed boy who followed the two around adoringly when others weren’t looking, sweet and enthusiastic. 

“Coping for what?” Gino asked back, cleaning out the barrel of a sniper rifle and nervously checking to make sure the drill sergeant wasn’t looking in his direction when he accidentally dropped a spring. “The court? I mean, they’re bloodhounds, but that seems a bit extreme.”

Suzaku was quiet for a moment, clicking his weapons back together. Gino found himself getting along with the Japanese boy best, likely because they were closest in age. The other knights seemed to sneer down back them, older and more experienced, although there were a few friendly faces who seemed amused at their inexperience. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Sir Guilford told him with amusement when they were first formally introduced, “It’s good for the prince and princesses to have knights their own age. Some just don’t like the competition.”

“But we’re not competition?” Gino said, asked, bewildered. 

“Competition for the throne,” Guilford corrected. “Everyone wants their own ward to win it.”

The drill sergeant nodded in approval towards Rolo, just another person who seemed reluctant to speak to the young knight, before he moved on the row and barked corrections to two others who seemed more intent on joking around than fulfilling their assignment. 

“He had a tough childhood,” Suzaku conceded, snapping the last pieces of his weapons together. “No one ends up here without a few skeletons in the closet.”

“I am skeleton-free,” Gino said. “I am too young for skeletons, and too handsome for them, too.”

Suzaku grimaced, and stepped away from the table as the weapons were organized, back straight and hands clasped behind his back as the formal knight position, waiting for the sergeant. “...You should ask him about it, not me.”

“Kururugi!” The drill sergeant snapped from twenty feet away, “I said clean those weapons, not dust them! Start over!”

Suzaku’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t protest and instead moved forward again to start the whole process over.

“Your weapons are cleaner than Rolo’s,” Gino claimed, bewildered. “What the hell?”

“That,” Suzaku gritted out, already dismantling a handgun, “is something else you’ll get used to around here.”

— 

Music classes were, apparently, not always— _music_ classes. 

Sometimes, music classes took place not in the grand rooms in the palace, but half an hour outside the city in a deserted hanger in the middle of nowhere, with a few of the royal children and handfuls of knights lugging around smaller instruments and music sheets.

Gino, for his part, had chosen a harmonica when told he needed a second, easy to carry instrument. Something he could keep in his pocket at all times, he thought, and another that he could just blow in which might actually be easier than the tuba. 

Princess Nunnally took a lyre with her, and Rolo a tambourine (and he glared when Gino stared at it), while Suzaku sat sheepishly with a guitar on the other side of Prince Lelouch’s violin. Princess Cornelia held a strange round metal instrument on her lap while Sir Guilford was carefully tuning his oboe. Three other knights that Gino hadn’t been introduced to sat on the far edge, whispering to each other, adding a clarinet, ukulele, and a viola.

It was a strange sight, to say the least, especially when Euphemia was heading their little group this time but without any instruments on her person. 

“Take it from the top,” Cornelia told her gently, even as Euphie wrung her hands together at the sight of their odd little group. “Slow and easy. We’re just practicing, so there’s no need to push yourself.”

“There’s no water here,” Euphie fretted. “What if I can’t do it?”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Cornelia soothed her, and drew her hand along the length of her steel pan, evoking a long, haunting note. “To help you do what you might not be able to do alone. And if you can’t, then we’ll work at it.”

Euphie looked dubious, but still nodded, and Cornelia signalled to Guilford, before she started a beat, the notes fast and haunting on her instrument, echoing in the space and lingering as each instrument slowly joined in, even Gino carefully counting under his breath before he blew lightly into a place carefully marked on his harmonica. 

He knew the song, of course, but he didn’t want to mess it up for her, which meant he was relegated to keeping beat and letting others take over the harmony for now. 

Within a few seconds, Nunnally’s sweet lilting notes for her lyre joined in, and Lelouch’s violin started slowly, softly. The royal children were given the most complicated harmonies, somehow meshing together the strange instruments into something that worked as Euphemia fiddled with her fingers, far more nervous this time than before in the gardens, before she opened her mouth to Sing. 

Her voice was sweet, clear as a bell, even with notes that wobbled from her nervousness, the instruments keeping pace with her as she slowly gained in confidence and volume, even though she was still frozen in place, hands to her chest. 

She started swaying to the music half a minute in, closing her eyes to blind out her own nervousness, and Gino smiled even as he kept up his beat. 

When Euphemia finally swept a leg out to spin in a half circle, arms tentatively reached outward, he finally saw it— a faint blue glow in the air surrounding her, and a globe of water, slowly growing, spinning and hovering above her hands, almost like clear glass if it didn’t catch the reflections of sunbeams within it. 

The song was a short one, as most Elemental Songs tended to be with the exception of the song of the wind, although even that could be taken in bits and pieces, and by the time that the song of water was over, Euphie managed to summon a spinning whirlpool of water above her head the size of a small car, opening her eyes only when the last notes of the instruments behind her finished, and yelping at the sight. 

The amount of water immediately dropped, soaking her through as she sputtered and yelped, enough that Gino could see several of the knights closest to her flinch back as they were splattered lightly as well.

“Remember to move that _away_ from you next time,” Lelouch advised sweetly from the back row. 

“I’ll move it over _your_ head,” Euphemia told him, shivering in her wet dress, and he laughed at her.

“Children,” Cornelia admonished with amusement as Euphie moved toward Gino, who offered her his dry jacket. “You can go next, Lelouch.”

“No, thanks,” he told her, just as sweet. “I know my own Song and what it can do.”

“And I know how to play my own instruments, yet am still subjected to music lessons twice a week,” Cornelia told him, the same false sweetness in her tone. “Front and center, brat.”

He scoffed, but stood anyway and handed over his violin to his amused knight. 

“Teach Euphie how to direct the song, then, Lelouch,” Cornelia told him, and he scrunched his nose at her. 

Nunnally pulled her seat to the front row this time, and beamed at her brother, already starting up a tempo on her lyre, plucking at the strings for a complicated melody. 

Suzaku and Rolo followed, the most used to the song, and Gino fumbled with his harmonica for a bit before attempting to add his own bit, even it was just breathing in and out of the instrument at the correct pace with the others. Euphie sat down in his coat and tried to wring out her hair a little bit before she picked up her flute, waiting several beats before joining in with the harmony. 

A different beat and tempo somehow made all the instruments sound different once again, and Lelouch gave Cornelia a pained look that must have been returned with an admonishment, because he seemed to slump a little in resignation. 

He wasn’t as hesitant as Euphemia, despite his reluctance, and the Song of Earth sounded much deeper, more powerful and a faster pace, like drums and a deep reverberation. Deep enough that Gino felt like the vibrations were coming from his own chest for a long second before he realized that wasn’t it, it was actually coming from under his feet. 

Unlike with Euphemia’s song, there was no sudden or miraculous movements, no real shifting of the earth or appearance of his element, even if the ground under their feet continued to vibrate subtly as the prince Sang, looking like he was coaxing something out from the ground. 

The song was just as short as the song of water, the ending notes finally producing results— shifting of the hard earth under their feet until it looked like upturned soil, prompting Lelouch to crouch down as the last notes of his song faded away, brushing his fingers through the earth. 

“That’s… it?” Gino whispered to Euphemia afterward, quietly to not be overheard. He was a little disappointed, mostly because he somehow expected more than that, from how much Euphie loved to wax poetic over her favorite brother’s skills and accomplishments. 

Euphie only gave a confused shrug, also slightly bewildered as Lelouch picked out several stones from the dirt, brushing them off before he threw one— the size of a die, over to Cornelia, who caught it easily. 

“Cheers, sister,” he told her, a bit smug.

Nunnally set down her lyre and made grabby-hands at him until Lelouch made his way over to her and deposited the rest of what he gathered in her palms. 

“It’s not blue,” Nunnally pouted. 

“What… is it?” Cornelia asked, turning the uneven stone in her hands with a frown. Lelouch just patted Nunnally on the head with a smile and sat down next to her this time, telling her lightly to share with Euphemia. 

It was Princess Nunnally who laughed, bringing up the slightly see-through stones above her head as if trying to have it catch light that didn’t really work in the empty hanger. 

“I think they’re supposed to be sapphires,” she teased, “even if they aren’t blue.”

The people there burst into surprised murmurs.

— 

“I hate my family,” Euphemia groaned into her pillow, even as Gino shimmied out of his weapons, collapsing onto the couch in her room with as much drama as her, resting an arm against his eyes as Euphie yelled incoherently into her pillow for a bit, kicking her feet. “I hate my life. Why couldn’t I have been born into a _normal_ family?”

“Because you’re too special for it,” Gino told her, words only slightly slurred with how tired he felt. 

That seemed to prompt Euphie to kick at her bed more, and then push herself up to say, “But not special _enough!_ Not special enough for _this_ family!”

“You’re very special,” he tried to appease her. 

“Schneizel is, what? The smartest person in the whole world? Cornelia’s only— oh, I don’t know, conquered half the world or something and gained the loyalty to just about every soldier in the empire. Lelouch isn’t only the empire’s lead strategist, he’s also got this whole secret alter ego that’s been leading the armies to victory in Europia!”

“To be fair, they’re all older than you.” Gino said, still collapsed on the couch. “And you’ve got plenty of other siblings who didn’t make that list.”

“Lelouch! Is!” It sounded like she was whacking her pillow against her bed petulantly, each word accompanied by a whack, “One! Year! Older! Than! Me!”

Gino finally looked her direction to see her wilt dramatically and slump down onto her bed, pouting. 

“I’m sixteen,” she lamented, “I should be— worried about school. Boys. I want to— to go to the movies, get ice cream, take a shopping trip to the mall! I’m so tired of _tutors_ , and never being good enough at anything because people in this family are somehow always the _best at everything_!”

“Euphie,” Gino breathed out, seeing her eyes fill with frustrated tears as he pushed himself up from the couch into a sitting position, “Hey…”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, and covered her eyes with her palms, rubbing. “I’m just— frustrated. It’s not fair. I finally thought I was special for once, and it’s not his fault, not really, but I hate that he’s better than me _again_!”

He stood up and carefully made his way over to her bed before kneeling down at the side, unsure if he was welcome that close. It was the first time Gino had ever seen Euphemia that frustrated, used to the sweet and bubbly girl who loved to see the best in everyone and everything. 

“You’re the most special to me,” he insisted, not knowing what else to say. 

“You don’t even like me that way,” Euphie told him plainly, still covering her eyes. 

“Well, no,” Gino conceded, “but do you really want me to? You’re pretty and you’re nice and you’re amazing. You also have a very scary sister who can make my life hell. Second, I’m your knight and that’s improper.”

Euphemia gave out a wet laugh, and then rubbed at her eyes once more before she peeked out from around her fingers to pout at him. “...We never really did talk about things like… girls and boys.”

“Well, if you need the four-one-one on it, it’s girls who can kick my ass,” Gino said cheerfully, “and as much as I adore you, Euphie…”

“I’m not a fighter,” Euphie concluded, shoulders slumped. “Is it Nellie, then?”

“Oh, gods, no,” Gino said. “I do still want to live. And before you ask more, it’s no one. You’re first and foremost to me. And not just because I’m your knight. Because you’re sweet and amazing and the world is a better place with you in it, no matter how you might think you don’t measure up to your family.”

“I think the worst part is that I really love them and I’m really proud of them,” Euphemia sniffled. “And Lelouch’s demonstration was really amazing. I know he wasn’t showing off, because there’s no showing off in this family, just… trying to live up to impossible expectations. All I can do is— fill a pool faster than a hose if there’s a bunch of people all with the practice to help me.”

“You can end droughts,” Gino corrected her. “Prevent people from dying of thirst. Save fish? My point is: you’re a _Liedmeister_ , and you’re amazing. There’s less than ten people in the world with these abilities, and it doesn’t matter if they all come from your family, because you’re still special. You’re special to the world, and you’re even special amongst your family. And you’re special to me— not just because I’m your knight. Because you’re my friend.”

She gave him a sad look with her red-rimmed eyes, lip wobbling again although this time the tears weren’t coming, and then shuffled over to the edge of her bed where she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. 

Gino hugged her back gingerly.

“I’m really glad to have met you,” she told him, voice little louder than a sigh. “So glad.”

— 

It started with a distant rumble, like the edge of an earthquake, late at night near the stroke of midnight when most had already retired for bed and the night shift was up and running. Gino had also already retired for bed but in truth was struggling with the music composition piece from the previous day’s lessons, because despite his more classical upbringing thanks to the nobility of his family, apparently the music lessons for royalty and their knights were an another level entirely, requiring all of them to have a professional level knowledge and skill with at least two instruments, and an understanding of musical rhythm and quick grasp of sound that Gino was now struggling with. 

He just wasn’t very musically inclined, and it was starting to show in the lessons, but he wasn’t about to let Princess Euphemia down. Multiple tutors already drilled it into his head that her honor was now his, and he was to represent his princess with all the chivalry and dignity expected of storybook knights, lest he give her a bad name.

She likely wouldn’t have minded, but Gino was determined to at least match the other knights in music lessons despite his late entry into classes. Euphie deserved a friend who would at least try for her. 

When the rumble first started, he thought that perhaps someone was operating a heavy machine outside the palace grounds, or the start of some sort of late night construction crew, and gave it little thought. 

When the rumbling came closer, accompanied by the start of the crystals on chandeliers starting to clink and shake, Gino was already up and with one hand on his sword, still in sleep wear but already out of his room and down the hall past several maids looking around in confusion. 

Good training, his tutors would have approved. Acting before your mind can even catch up. 

He wasn’t the only one, either, having run into Rolo on the way to the royal quarters, the young boy only giving him a bland stare, fully dressed but missing his sword (“He prefers guns,” Gino remembered Euphie telling him carefully, “so just… be a little careful around Rolo, okay? He’s a good kid, but I think had some bad things happened to him before Lelouch and Nunnally picked him up, so he’s a little. Hmm. What would be the word— trigger-happy?”). 

“Evacuation procedure Echo Delta thirty-eight,” Rolo told him, expression as blank as ever without the presence of either Nunnally or Lelouch to temper him, and Gino nearly backed up a step despite the boy being more than a full head shorter than him. 

“Yeah, got it,” Gino confirmed, remembering the instructions on the handbook all the way from assassination attempts to natural disasters. “Good luck.”

The other knight didn’t bother with a response, instead following the path down to the vi Britannia ensuite, likely to meet up with Suzaku along the way. 

On his part, Gino managed to make his way over to Euphie’s suites only a little after the arrival of Sir Guilford, who looked grim even as he guarded Princess Cornelia’s door. Euphemia, on the other hand, was already standing at her doorway, looking a little confused and sleepy, dressed in a nightgown with her pink hair tied into a loose braid down her back. 

“Earthquake?” she asked as Gino approached, and he was going to answer when Sir Guilford shook his head. 

“Pendragon’s not had an earthquake for over two hundred and fifty years.” The stern man turned to Gino, who stood up straighter at the look. “Be prepared for a fight.”

Oh. Well. Not what Rolo thought it was, then, although Gino had a feeling the younger knight was itching for a fight, anyway, from Rolo’s calculating stare each time he wasn’t with the vi Britannia siblings. Still, Gino didn’t want the younger boy to be caught up in something he wasn’t ready for, or even in things that might leave more mental scars in the future. It was hard to imagine that Rolo really was only Princess Nunnally’s age. 

“Invaders?” Gino asked, now regretting how fast he left his rooms, with only his sword in hand. 

“Terrorists.” Sir Guilford told him. “It’s been nearly seven years since the last attempt—” 

Euphie let out a little gasp, and she ducked back into her rooms, knowing to grab an already prepared bag in case of emergencies and likely shoes that would allow her to run if she needed to. She came out seconds later, having thrown a quick jacket over her nightgown as well, and Gino accepted her bag of supplies eagerly, slinging it over his shoulder. 

It was at that moment Princess Cornelia also appeared from her rooms, looking impeccably dressed in her military uniform and long boots, a scowl on her face. 

“Are we ready, then?” She asked, but didn’t wait for a response as her eyes roamed over them. “Good. Just do as you would in any emergency drill, and don’t panic—” 

As if summoned by her words, the screaming started out in the gardens, and Euphie’s eyes widened in fright. Another rumble, this time much stronger than before, enough to shake the heavy furniture and echo through the walls, made Euphie yell out in surprise. 

“What is it, what’s going on?” She asked, reaching for her sister even as Cornelia’s posture tensed and she nodded at Guilford to take the lead. 

“I’ll find out,” Cornelia promised, although she rested a calming hand on the tight grasp Euphie had on her arm. “Don’t worry. Let’s get you to safety first. Weinberg.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Gino responded quickly, and then quickly took Euphie by the elbow gently with one hand, the other grabbing his sword so tightly he was sure to have the indents of the pummel on his palm later. “This way, Princess Euphemia.”

In this case, protocol Echo Delta Sixteen would be in effect, leading those of the royal family still considered children in the eyes of the law to a secure shelter, although Euphemia would be led to another one, seeing as she was one of the rare _Liedmeisters_ of the family, which made her a more high target profile for intruders seeking to take down the royal family. 

Princess Cornelia pressed a brief kiss to the top of her little sister’s head, and then gestured to Sir Guilford to follow her before her expression hardened, and she marched off, with Gino now leading Euphemia off in the opposite direction, taking a long series of stairs downward toward a more secure area of the Palace, all the way down to the ground floor where they were met with a mass of panicking maids and servants who seemed to not know what to do in the chaos. 

“What’s going on?” Euphemia asked them, even as Gino attempted to pull her away. “What’s happening?”

“We don’t know, Your Highness,” one of the younger maids told her, holding a basket of laundry almost protectively to her chest. “There were the earthquakes, and then— outside! The the security cameras! It looked like people were attacking each other on the streets!”

Euphie didn’t have time to ask anything further as Gino caught the attention of several palace guards, whom he gestured to keep a path for them wide open so that they wouldn’t be hindered, and he pulled Euphie along behind him, careful of any new faces in the crowd. Most staff at the palace were required to have a passing familiarity with everyone who worked there, to better prevent intruders from sneaking in. It meant that they had the memorize hundreds of faces, just so they could spot someone who didn’t belong. 

They continued downward until the screaming was far behind them, and Euphie was holding tightly onto Gino’s hand, wide-eyed as she whispered frantically to him in the quiet of the pathways where most weren’t allowed to go, “Attacking each other? What do you think is happening outside, Gino?”

“I don’t know,” he told her seriously, “but my first priority is you.”

The vaults were six stories underground, under at least ten feet of solid cement, meant to be a bunker in case the capital was attacked by another nation. In that scenario, the elder ones of the royal children would be put in command, with the _Liedmeisters_ to turn the battle around. The younger ones, from toddlers to teens, would be safe and secure where no one could reach them. 

“—is preposterous,” Gino could hear the angry tones up ahead, and he relaxed slightly to know that Euphie was now close to safety. “I’m not leaving her behind!”

Just as predicted, the turn of a corner showed Prince Lelouch standing straight, unafraid, against a burly palace guard at least a head and a half taller and a good hundred plus pounds heavier than him, the guard cringing back at the prince’s anger. 

“The other royal children have their own shelter,” another guard, just as big and tall as the other was, attempted to plead, “she’ll be completely safe there—” 

“Then why even have separate shelters?” Lelouch demanded, and by now Euphie was rushing to her brother, who had his arms wrapped protectively around Princess Nunnally, who looked wide-eyed and scared, with their knights hanging protectively behind them. “If Nunnally isn’t allowed to enter, then I’m not going, either.”

“Please, Your Highness,” the guard pleaded, “His Majesty’s orders are absolute—” 

“And ridiculous,” he continued vehemently, “don’t deny it. A handful for this shelter, and the rest of the royal family goes to another? There is more room in this one, and you will _not_ take my sister from me.”

“She can’t come in,” another voice said snidely from within the doors, and Princess Carine appeared, shadowed by her own knight as she smiled, mockingly sweet. “This bunker is for the true heirs to the throne… and are we even sure she’s not a monkey, disguised as a human?”

“Are we sure you’re not a snake, trussed up like a turkey?” Princess Nunnally snapped back, although her arms never left her brother’s ribs. The guards seemed at a loss of what to do, and Euphie looked hesitant herself. “I’m not sorry that I’m not a warmongering sociopath like you who likes to pluck the wings off butterflies and kick puppies for fun!”

“Says the poppet who took on a child assassin as her Knight of Honor,” Carine cooed, apparently unaffected by Nunnally’s accusations. “But it doesn’t change the fact that this bunker is for _Liedmeisters_ … and you’re just a failure on father’s part, one he should have killed the moment you were born—” 

“That is _enough_.” Prince Lelouch snapped, pushing Nunnally back behind himself even as he shook with fury. “You will apologize to her this instant, Carine!”

“I don’t answer to you,” Carine told him breezily, and then flicked her fingers at him, “....Father’s favorite or not. I don’t have to do anything you say until the succession is decided. You’re weak. Always have been, coddling that little failure and pretending you’re so much better than the rest of us. As if you haven’t spilt your own rivers of blood, just to win father’s approval. Taking on your little _pets_. Why not call that precious brother of yours the sociopath, Nunnally?” 

Carine sounded out her name in slow syllables, mockingly, “He’s always surrounding himself with inferior specimens. Take that Eleven, for example, or maybe that little assassin of yours—” 

“Don’t talk about Rolo!” Nunnally shrieked, and it was Euphie who had to grab her little sister to keep her from jumping Carine, who only smiled darkly. “He’s got more heart than you, any day!”

Sir Kururugi also stepped toward, a hand on Prince Lelouch’s elbow, eying Sir Clermont behind Princess Carine warily. 

It was after a moment, and another rumble that this time shook the ground underneath them, vibrations echoing up the thick concrete walls, that Prince Lelouch declared, “We’re going. The Emperor’s rulings can go hang— we’d be safer facing whatever it was on the surface, away from her.”

He took Nunnally’s hand, and Euphie reluctantly let the younger girl go, looking conflicted. 

“You can’t do that,” she whispered to Lelouch, “Father will be so mad— Carine’s all bark, anyway, she won’t actually do anything to Nunnally— the maids said people are attacking each other in the streets, Lelouch!”

“Then we’ll go assess the damage,” Lelouch said, and already he was turned away from the bunker, ignoring Carine’s vicious glee and satisfaction. “You stay, Euphemia. I’ll find Cornelia and Schneizel—” 

“Then what about Nunnally?” Euphie asked, aghast. “You’re not— you can’t be thinking of taking her with you.”

“I’m safer with Lelouch,” Nunnally interrupted herself, and it was strange to Gino to see the small princess say something like that with the utmost seriousness. The past several months had him acclimated to a young girl who loved to play pranks and run down the hallways, laughing at the maids and retainers who tried to keep up with her. He could recall Euphie and Nunnally’s tea parties out in the garden, filtered by sunlight and happiness. Even when she was irritated, angry, or snappish… Gino had never seen Princess Nunnally that utterly calm and serious. 

He had always seen the vi Britannia siblings as spoiled royal children, yet right now the pair of them looked preternatural almost, expressions blank and eyes alit to near glowing. Of course, the royal family, and _Liedmeisters_ in particular, had those strangely luminescent eyes, but he never really realized how creepy it was until he was faced with the look in a dimly lit underground bunker. 

With Princess Nunnally’s eerie calm and her attached to her brother, who this time was not the epitome of teenage irritation but rather with the most calculating gaze settling in his direction, the two flanked by their impassive Knights of Honor, Gino was reminded that this was the team who managed to win the war against Europia United in under two years when the war had previously been deemed unwinnable, even by the most brilliant of the strategists in the empire. 

Euphie didn’t seem to see that, as she frowned and insisted, “You’re not leaving me behind. Nunnally’s younger than me! If she’s allowed to go, then so should I be. I’m… I’m a songstress too, I can help.”

Lelouch sighed, “You can’t disobey the Emperor’s orders, Euphie.”

“You do,” Euphie countered, “All the time!”

“And I’ve been sent to the front of two wars that should have killed me, likely soon a third. Make no mistake, I’m not his ‘favorite’, I’m the thorn in his neck he can’t rid himself of. I know what I can handle, despite what others would think. The Emperor’s wrath is as familiar to me as Sunday brunch. Cornelia’s, on the other hand…”

It was a subtle joke, maybe, poking fun at Princess Cornelia’s legendary temper that she must have inherited from the Emperor himself, and Prince Lelouch left it at that, turning on his heel with his younger sister in tow, and heading back toward the stairs that would take them up and out of the secret areas of Pendragon. 

Euphie followed, attempting to puff herself up with more authority even as she followed in her nightgown. 

“Then I’ll stay behind you,” she insisted, “and I’ll tell Cornelia I followed you, and you tried to get me to stay.”

It made Prince Lelouch stop and he turned slightly with a weary sigh, “...She’s your responsibility, Sir Weinberg.”

Hearing himself addressed for the first time in the conversation, Gino straightened, “Of course, Your Highness. I would never let harm befall her.”

“Suzaku, Rolo,” Prince Lelouch called out, and the knights straightened, “Catch Sir Weinberg up on formations and what to do, if you’re up for the challenge.”

“Of course, big brother,” Rolo enthused, even as Suzaku gave a quick sound of acknowledgement. 

The pace they set off at was surprisingly brisk, with Euphemia at times nearly jogging just to keep up with the long strides, and Gino was more than a little impressed by how accustomed to the pace both Rolo and Princess Nunnally were, the both of them being the shortest in the group. 

It was Suzaku who dropped back first to keep pace with Gino while Rolo fumbled in his pack for items even as Prince Lelouch called out for them, pulling out earpieces for all of them. 

“How far have you got on the regulations manual?” The Japanese boy asked him. 

“Uh.” Gino thought about the textbook that had been handed to him several months ago, large and heavy enough to use easily as a weapon, with nearly three thousand pages on everything from standard behavior expected from a knight, where to stand, what subtle shifts in body language would mean, court rules, and the chapter he actually read over carefully: evacuation procedures and code phrases in case of emergencies, kidnappings, attempted assassinations, and in case the royal family member under his charge got into a public duel with another of the same standing. 

Suzaku snorted. “That far, huh?”

“The reading’s a bit dry,” Gino admitted, “and I’ve been kept busy by lessons.”

Etiquette lessons, court lessons, memorizing the names and families of everyone of standing, remembering the political affiliation of each member of court, recognizing the faces of each of the Emperor’s very many children, and learning the names of every single person who worked in the Palace, because all household staff were to be recognized immediately to deter any possible intruders. 

Not to mention the very intense, very ridiculous music lessons. On top of the fact that he still had to keep up with his regular schoolwork. 

“Good.” Suzaku told him. “Don’t bother with any of the usual regulations in the book. Lelouch won’t use any of those. He thinks they’re all stupid.”

“Haven’t they worked for generations?” Gino mused aloud.

“Just because they work doesn’t mean they can’t be improved upon,” Suzaku said, sounding like he was quoting someone else. “We don’t have time to brief you, so… follow my lead, do what I say, and always stay close to Princess Euphemia. Her safety is top priority for you. If it comes down to obeying my orders, and her safety, it needs to be her safety. If it comes down to you or her, it needs to be her.”

“Got it.” 

Suzaku shot him a look. “If it comes down to listening to Prince Lelouch… just do what he says. He won’t jeopardize the safety of his sisters.”

Gino felt irked at the bias. “Shouldn’t you be telling me to protect Princess Euphemia even above that?”

“If I thought you could win a match against either Prince Schneizel or Prince Lelouch, sure.”

“Just because I’m not some globally acknowledged genius— look out!”

Euphemia’s scream came a little after his warning, and Gino shot ahead as one of the palace servants, an older lady with greying hair, crashed into the space Euphie was just before Gino managed to snatch her out of the way. 

The woman on the ground twitched violently for a moment before she started screaming, clutching at her head. Gino could only manage to stare, arms tight around an equally stunned Euphie as they watched what looked like black tendrils under the woman’s skin spread from a handprint on her wrist, moving fast to her fingertips and presumably up her arm under the sleeves, transfering itself onto her temple as she clutched at her head and writhed. 

“Move, Weinberg!” came the shout, and Gino responded on instinct as he twisted out of the way with Euphie as Suzaku flew past them, sword slashing open the woman’s chest even as she attempted to stand and claw in their direction, and she dropped in one graceless move, still twitching even as the blood spread across the plush rug underneath her. 

Euphie screamed again in horror, and Gino moved to cover her eyes, pulling out of range of the blood splatters. 

“You just— killed her,” Gino said disbelievingly. 

“She moved with the intent to harm Princess Euphemia,” Suzaku said, unaffected, although when he turned his head he looked angry. “What did I tell you about keeping her safe? It’s your first priority! I can’t keep her safe, it is not my duty—” 

“That’s Mrs. McKain,” Euphie said numbly from the protective circle of Gino’s arms, even as Lelouch crouched a safe distance away from the corpse with a grim expression, and Nunnally worked to tie her skirts into a knot above her knee, her emotions an echo of her brother’s. “She… she used to sneak us cookies for picnics out in the gardens.”

“Whatever this is, it looks like it spreads by touch,” Lelouch said, and then stood again. “We’ll have to be careful—” 

He was pulled back by Nunnally, the young princess grabbing hard enough that he stumbled a step just as out of reach as Mrs. McKain jerked upward again, hands clawed as she swiped in their direction with a growl, and was just a moment later taken down three gunshots to the head and neck by Rolo, who stayed less than a step away from Princess Nunnally the entire time. 

The sound was deafening in the hallways, but it didn’t seem to draw more attention, not with the enclosing cacophony coming from outside. 

“How—?” Lelouch questioned for only a moment before the corpse was twitching again, even with the wounds in its head, neck, and chest. He wasn’t able to ask any more before the doors from outside banged open, and Suzaku immediately pushed him back, nearly picking him up as he shouted at both Rolo and Gino to run. 

At least four others crashed through the open door, and Gino looked just long enough to see the web of black under parts of their skin before he thought better of studying the scenario and grabbed Euphie by the wrist and running behind the vi Britannias and their knights. 

He didn’t need to look— instead, Gino could _hear_ the people behind them, the running footsteps chasing after them and accompanying the sounds that were a little too bestial and feral to be the palace residents that he had grown to know. 

“In here!” Suzaku called from up ahead, and the group of them rushed toward an empty state room, away from windows and outside access, Gino just pulling Euphie in before Suzaku shut and locked the door, an electronic beep confirming metal bolts snapping into place in the walls. 

“What was that?” Princess Nunnally demanded, now that they were finally out of harm’s way as Prince Lelouch leaned against a wall to catch his breath and Rolo sat down next to him as he slid down once the sounds outside seemed to pass by them without stopping. 

“Not a terrorist attack,” the prince concluded, somewhat breathlessly, “or if it is, it’s a biochemical one. We have to find Schneizel and Cornelia. Change the lockdown procedures. If it’s in the palace already, then locking everything down will just mean everyone inside dies. Whatever that was, it spread fast— visibly. For now, we need to stay out of range— no skin contact.”

“They’re fast,” Suzaku chimed in quietly, “and they keep getting up.”

“It could be a singular case,” Lelouch rebutted, but then shook his head. “...No, you’re right. If there’s one case, then there might be more. We’ll treat that as the benchmark, then. Fast, contracted by touch, and the infected don’t stay down.”

“I blew out her brain stem.” Rolo confirmed. 

“...The dead don’t stay down.”

“We could stay in here,” Euphemia suggested, wringing her hands nervously. “It should be safe in here.”

“You should stay,” Lelouch agreed, before pushing himself back up again, accepting the hand that Suzaku extended to pull him up. “I need more information.”

“You just said it’s a biochemical attack!” Euphie protested, “and we have— we have _rules_ for that!”

“If it’s a terrorist attack, yes. Something doesn’t feel right.” He turned to Suzaku to confirm, even as Princess Nunnally slipped her hand in her brother’s to cling to him. “Hangers?”

“We can make it,” his knight answered. 

“Knightmares?” Nunnally asked, and Lelouch made a noise of confirmation. The young princess shook his hand, and insisted, “I’m piloting.”

“You always do,” Lelouch confirmed, and took a deep breath. “Alright.”

Euphemia chose that moment to latch onto him as well, insistent. “You can’t just leave me here alone!”

“You’re not alone,” Lelouch told her. “Sir Weinberg will be here with you, and as you said, so long as you keep the door shut, you should be safe in here. If not, then feel free to brave the way back to the bunker. It shouldn’t be too difficult. I’m sure you have weapons, Weinberg?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Gino confirmed, although he too didn’t like the idea of splitting up. 

“Gino has his own prototype Knightmare Frame, he can help with whatever you’re trying to do.” Euphie insisted, “just bring me with you.”

“What would you do once you get to the hangers?” Lelouch asked, “You never asked for your own Knightmare, and you never learned how to pilot. We need to get off the ground and into the air to assess the situation, and there’s only so many Frames equipped with the Float System.”

“You and Nunnally operate a Frame together, why can’t I do the same thing?”

“The Gawain is a two-person Frame. Other Knightmares are not.”

“You just took the Gawain from Schneizel because you told him you wanted it for your seventeenth birthday,” Euphie accused, and Lelouch colored a bit, “and you knew he doesn’t like telling you no.”

“That— that’s his own problem, and irrelevant to the situation right now,” the prince insisted, even as Nunnally giggled slightly.

“I’ll take her,” Gino interjected, and then cringed back as everyone turned to look at him, the majority of them dubiously. “The Tristen’s a bigger frame, it’s not as— cramped. And it’s safer inside a Knightmare than outside one right now.”

It was Nunnally who told Euphie, “You know it means you’ll have to sit on his lap.”

“I can pilot around her,” Gino said and nodded to himself to confirm. “Yeah.”

“If he’s okay with it, then I’m okay with it,” Euphie said, and turned to him. “I wouldn’t hinder your piloting, would I?”

“It’s fine,” he assured her, and pulled out a smile, “I wouldn’t be an ace pilot if I couldn’t handle it.”

“If you were an ace pilot, you wouldn’t call yourself an ace pilot,” Rolo said snidely.

“Focus,” Lelouch scolded, and Rolo immediately tensed up, eyes wide with innocence. “It doesn’t matter which way you’re going, so long as you’re sure you can keep Euphemia safe.”

Gino looked over at Euphie, was was now clinging to his sleeve with one hand, a hopeful expression on her face. He nodded. “I can, Your Highness.”

“And as long as you remember you don’t listen to me, you listen to her,” Lelouch added dryly.

“Yes, Your Highness— I mean—” 

“Do you have a plan?” Euphemia asked Lelouch, and he just scoffed slightly, although the sound was a soft one rather than something mocking. 

“Always,” he confirmed, and then managed a small smile for her. The he looked toward the knights, and gestured with his free hand, “Formation Delta. Suzaku takes point, Rolo, you take up the end. I assume you’ve been briefed on protocols, Weinberg.”

Gino only managed a nod before Prince Lelouch let out a breath, and then continued, “Don’t get separated, don’t let your guard down. We don’t know what’s really happening outside, not yet, so I want you to take every precaution. We move out in three… two…”

It was Suzaku and Gino who went for the doors, tense, the moment the prince finished his countdown, listening through it for just a moment before they unlocked it with a passcode, and pulled open the heavy wood.

“Go,” Lelouch ordered, and they set off on the deceptively empty corridors towards the hangers, hearing screaming from a distance away and panicked shouts, and Euphemia clung onto Gino’s shirt tightly as they moved, Nunnally half a step faster than the rest of the royals as she dragged her brother along behind her, steps nimble as she made her way behind Suzaku. 

It must have only been minutes since the alarm, and barely any time since they managed to find a place to hide, yet the it was far more chaotic already in the hallways of the palace, with people locking themselves in rooms to avoid the havoc just as they did, some peeking fearfully from behind heavy curtains through thick glass panes that sometimes separated rooms for the aesthetic, as the small group of knights and royalty, dressed mostly in their nightwear, made their way down the hallways that had furniture overturned and black smears left on the walls and grounds. 

“Don’t touch any of that,” Lelouch cautioned, as Nunnally stepped nimbly around a smear of what looked like blood. 

Whether it was because the situation still hadn’t reached a dire point in the palace yet, or because they got lucky, they didn’t encounter any actual people on their way to the hangers, although the screams were always just a little too close for comfort. 

It seemed they were not the only ones with the same idea, as a great smattering of people were also in the hangers, from pilots to technicians, to frightened palace hands who were wide-eyed and huddled close under the shadows of the giant machines, pale and clutching at each other with bloodless fingers. 

The doors were closed rather definitely after them by four servants, who piled on heavy crates and there was a vehicle driven a hairswidth from the door as barricade, although one man stayed close with an ear pressed to the metal to listen for activity on the other side, likely how they managed to get the barricade down so quickly when Lelouch first called out. 

“Your Highnesses,” a harried maid, with brown hair falling out of the bun behind her head, caught up to them as she yanked her modest skirt to knee height to keep it out of the way. “I spoke with Prince Schneizel and Princess Cornelia, and they reported that should you arrive here, you were to stay here, where it’s safe—” 

“Of course he did,” Lelouch groused, “because they would predict that we’d leave the bunkers, but still want to actually stay ‘where it’s safe’, right?”

The maid looked abashed, “I’m— merely carrying out orders, Your Highness.”

“Of course,” Nunnally soothed over her brother’s irritation. “That’s fine. You can tell them afterward that you carried the message.”

“Yes,” Lelouch agreed, even if reluctantly, “that’s right. If you’ve spoken with them, then do they have any information regarding what’s happening?”

The maid hesitated, “...no one’s sure. It seems like a disease, of an— unexplainable source. At least, until a reasonable explanation can be found…”

The prince made a vague gesture, and both Suzaku and Rolo broke off in different directions, the movement easy enough to comprehend which allowed Gino to veer off as well, taking Euphemia with him. 

“What?” Euphie asked, bewildered. “What’s going on?”

“We’re launching,” Gino told her, heading toward the enclosed area where the Tristen had been parked. “C’mon.”

“Don’t you need— technicians? People who handle liftoff?” 

Gino smiled at her. “Not for the special Frames, no.”

The truth was that technicians were necessary for all the Knightmare Frames, no matter how special each was, but in a pinch, each KMF could launch with only the pilot, even if performance wouldn’t be optimal. 

There were less people away from the main area of the hangers, where it was darker and emptier where the prototype Knightmare Frames had already launched, and where it looked more frightening with the dim lighting casting long shadows and ominous glows reflected off computer terminals and panels. 

The Tristan was a large machine, painted blue, and Gino liked to have it parked in plane mode if only because it looked more deceptive that way— like it was nothing more than a transport vehicle rather than a heavy machine of war, and because it was easier to get to the cockpit that way. 

He made his way over to his Knightmare with Euphie in hand, and then pounded at the panel that would expose the hangline, before turning Euphemia toward the line and telling her, “Here, hang on to this. Put your feet in the— yeah, at the bottom. Hold tight. Don’t let go.”

Once he was sure that she had a secure grip, he yanked hard at the line, and Euphie yelped as it carried her up, both hands gripping tightly at the steel rope until it deposited her at the height of the cockpit, where she wobbled off ungracefully. 

Gino didn’t waste any time, flipping the switch to lower the hangline again and pulling himself up this time with a practiced ease, letting the hangline snap back once he was atop the Tristan, and warning her one last thing, “This is going to be a cramped ride.”

“I’ll live,” Euphemia told him, and moved aside carefully to let him enter the cockpit first, settling himself into the pilot’s seat before he extended a hand to help her step in as well, despite the fact that really wasn’t any room to do so. Most Knightmare Frames were made spaciously with just one person in mind, so while he might have room to stretch all by himself, with two people, it was suddenly difficult to move at all. 

Euphemia looked so hesitant that Gino pulled her down into the seat instead, before inserting his key and flicking the switches that would close up the cockpit, moving the entire capsule deeper into the heart of the Knightmare, even as Euphie attempted to hold herself steady against the metal bulkheads, hands shying carefully away from switches and panels. 

“You can lean on me,” he told her, and then grinned, “I’ll be able to see over your head. You’re short.”

It made her laugh, even if the sound was breathy, “I’m really not.”

“Well,” he said, as the panels lit up and the engine underneath them started rumbling, “it’s a good thing I’m tall, then.”

He gave her no other warning before pulling the joysticks back, and Euphemia let out a startled shout before a hand gripped down above his knee, in turn making Gino yelp out in pain. 

“Easy there!” He told her, grimacing even as the Tristan was airborne, engines purring steadily and the screens alit with the multitudes of information he would need to keep from accidentally colliding with anything. The hanger doors were closed, likely to protect all the scared people inside, but there was an exit for the Frames with Float System, a long narrow passageway meant to allow KMFs out without allowing enemy units _in_. He could already see the Lancelot up ahead, the white Knightmare’s green energy wings visible even in the dim lighting, followed closely by the Vincent, who hadn’t been equipped with wings, but a normal Float System. 

“You’ll have to man communications for me,” Gino told Euphie, because it was easier to give her something to do and something else to focus on besides the fact that she was stuck in a Knightmare with him, and that there really wasn’t room for two people in there. “Keep track of where everyone else is and what they’re doing, okay?”

“Where?” Euphie asked shakily. 

Gino used one hand to point out the panels for communications lines, and then set it up so she had access to the broadband and to several more private channels. “Do you know Prince Lelouch’s line?”

“Yes,” she answered, a little steadier now, “of course. He made sure we all knew it.”

“Then it’s you running the show now,” he told her, and let her fiddle with the controls a bit while he piloted the Tristan to follow where he saw the Gawain was also heading upwards toward the chute. Below them, there were dozens of frightened looking palace hands gazing up, some shielding their eyes from the wind generated by the Frames and others holding tightly onto fluttering documents. 

Euphemia was hesitant for a bit, but then her movements slowly smoothed out as she typed in the appropriate channel and codes necessary to transmit on that channel, while Gino remained silent about knowing all the channels and codes himself. 

“—pared for some major winds outside, not sure what happened to the sky, but I don’t think it’s supposed to look like this.”

“Like what?” Euphemia immediately asked Suzaku, who had been reporting in. The Tristan was still flying up, and Gino’s grip tightened on the controls. 

“Like a black ocean,” Rolo’s voice came through, sounding alarmed, “A giant vortex going up.”

The passed through the chute finally, and Gino could see exactly what the other two knights were talking about— instead of night sky and stars, the air looked a writhing mess of black, moving like thick clouds forming a tornado, a black hole too close for comfort trying to suck things in, but instead it seemed to be leaking black shapes out instead, the black looking like it was struggling to escape from the whirlpool, and successfully. 

“Don’t get too close,” Prince Lelouch’s voice came over the channel, cold and focused, “Don’t let those things touch your Knightmare.”

Easier said than done, Gino thought with a wave of panic, as the black figures were barely perceptible in the darkness outside, and moving fast in the air. None of his sensors seemed to pick up on it, either, so it gave off no heat or light, yet he could still manage to see the outlines of the form. He tried to pull out of his upward dive a little too late, the black forms getting closer and closer, and then— 

Suddenly it looked like the darkness was retreating from them, like a cringe. 

“What—?” Gino murmured, although he took the extra seconds to put some distance between the Tristan and the mess in the sky, because questioning it came second to actually following orders that might keep himself and Euphemia alive. 

“Stay focused.” Lelouch’s voice was saying, “we need to get to a safe distance and see if the interference fades away from this.”

“Interference?” Euphemia asked, eyes still stuck to the sky. 

“—haven’t been able to get a hold of Schneizel or Cornelia. Likely from them being— beyond whatever this mound is. I don’t see any of Schneizel’s troops or the Glaston Knights, either.”

Now that he knew to listen for it, there was a discernible break in the audio, static where static wasn’t supposed to be, and times when words were a little too garbled to hear correctly.

“What about your Black Knights, Lelouch?” Euphie asked, sounding frightened, “maybe we should have come out with more support.”

“I don’t bring them back with me to Pendragon,” Lelouch answered, “not if I don’t have to.”

Whatever other questions Euphie had, she was interrupted as Gino veered sharply to one side, and weapons fire appeared from above them, targeting the dark spectres that seemed to be surrounding them at a healthy distance. 

“Hold on,” he told her seriously, since his control of the Knightmare was tenuous at best, without it having been calibrated before take-off and also out of his piloting uniform with all the sensors and synchronizing plugs to help him better connect to the machine. Tenuous compared to how smoothly he was used to operating the machine. 

Euphie gave a startled whimper and turned to wrap an arm tightly around his ribs as he maneuvered around both the spectres and shots, the Frame loop in the air at a speed that gravity didn’t have the time to pull them from their seats thanks to inertial forces. 

“Well, it looks like we’ve found the other forces,” he heard Rolo’s dry tone from over the comms, and looked up to see the break in the sky where the Avalon was, the battleship floating high in the air above the vortex, surrounded by various Knightmare Frames that looked absolutely tiny in comparison. 

“He’s such a show off,” Lelouch groused, and Nunnally laughed through the speakers. 

“Don’t say that, you’d do the same thing if you had something like the Avalon,” she told him, with no small amount of manic cheer that Gino could currently identify with. He could see the Gawain above them, the shape of the Knightmare darkened to barely an outline if not for the purple energy wings, the Frame moving at the speeds that Gino was impressed by, twisting and twirling like a dancer between the dark spectres. 

“—he _hell_ are the lot of you doing outside? What have I said? Do you not ever _listen_ , for once in your _lives_ —”

“Uh-oh,” Nunnally said cheerfully, still piloting the Gawain like a ribbon through the sky, “looks like the communications jam’s gone.”

“Pity,” Lelouch sighed. 

“Cornelia!” Euphie shouted instead, as the Tristan rolled into another dive and then straight shot up, attempting to outpace the black chasing after them. 

“Euphie?” And now, finally, Princess Cornelia sounded both terrified and enraged. “What are you doing out here? I understand the misbehaving brats, but— tell your knight to get up here. _Now_.”

Shit, Gino thought with a grimace, still a little more scared of the Second Princess than he was of whatever strange happening was going on in the sky. 

Several of the Knightmare parked by the Avalon were moving down, forming an escort as weapons shot at the spectres uselessly, even if the shots bought them a few moments each time as the spectres seemed to dissipate momentarily before they formed back together and continued their chase. 

Their party moved upward in the sky, and the spectres seemed to finally lose interest in them at a certain altitude, more interested in the chaos in the city down in the streets, where lights and fires were spreading, and vehicles crashed into each other on the roads. 

“I insisted,” Euphemia was saying, sweetheart that she was, “don’t blame Gino. Or Lelouch and Nunnally. They wanted me to stay behind, but I had to know what was going on.”

Soon enough, they were surrounded by the magenta frames of the Glaston Knights, and their four Knightmares were escorted up past the Avalon’s shields onto the hanger of the floating fortress. 

Princess Cornelia was waiting for them, lights flooding the hanger until everything looked white washed and bleached out, and flanked by both Sir Guilford and Sir Dalton. She looked furious and tense, and Gino dreaded having to face her, although Euphemia didn’t seem to have such stipulations, clambering out of the cockpit the moment Gino managed to land the Tristan.

“Cornelia!” Euphie called out, hands pulling the skirt of her nightgown out of the way and very nearly forgoing the hangline entirely Gino hadn’t pulled her back slightly by the elbow and placed it in front of her. 

She made her way down from the Knightmare frame and ran the rest of the way to her sister, tackling her in a flying hug that Cornelia couldn’t help but return.

Around them, the Gawain, Lancelot, and Mordred were also landing, a touch slower than the Tristan’s specialized unit built for speed. 

Gino climbed down from his Knightmare gingerly, forgoing the hangline himself as he clambered down the wings and down onto the ground in his soft shoes and pajamas. 

There was a dull echo as the large doors of the hanger that lead to the inside of the Avalon opened to reveal Prince Schneizel and an entourage of attendants as he strode in with long steps. 

Next to the Tristan, the other Frames were powered down now, and the hatch for them opened, with Nunnally jumping out first, barely using the hangline for a guide before her feet touched the ground, followed by Suzaku and Rolo from their own Frames, with Lelouch coming down last, waiting for the hangline to go back up again before he made his way down with no apparent hurry. 

Gino had never seen Prince Schneizel angry before, the Second Prince always with a carefully adopted veneer of calm civility that never broke no matter the situation or how dire things got. It was somewhat off-putting, to be truthful, because it meant even his smiles felt a little fake, a little bit distanced. 

And it was true that he wasn’t visibly angry now, nor did he sound it, but there was a layer of ice in his tone that had Gino twitching with a sense of danger. 

“You are all meant to be underneath the palace,” Prince Schneizel said, even as Euphie only managed to pull her head a few inches away from Cornelia, her smile strained and guilty. “There are protocols in place, and you are all underage.”

“I wasn’t underage to be thrown in wars, I think I’ll do just fine now.” Prince Lelouch said, apparently ignoring the danger in the air, or too used to it. His steps were calm and even, the very same smile that Schneizel used to wear, which was a strange juxtaposition knowing that the Second Prince was likely the one seething this time, while the Eleventh Prince remained cool and poised. 

“You are endangering both Euphemia and Nunnally,” Schneizel said to him, lips in a grim line as his younger brother approached. “And your own life as well. The situation is dire.”

“So we’ve seen.” Lelouch answered, and Nunnally latched onto his side as she usually did. “If you want someone to blame, blame Carine. She wouldn’t let Nunnally in, and I wasn’t going to leave her behind. Euphie followed us.”

“On my own,” Euphemia agreed, although her voice was small. “I’m sorry, Schneizel.”

“Sorry,” Nunnally echoed, although her smile was a bit more abashed rather than apologetic. 

“...Well, I’m not,” Lelouch rebutted, glaring at a point in the walls. “I wasn’t going to stay down there anyway, just waiting for the ceiling to collapse down on me. How did you expect this situation to end? Weapons don’t work on those things.”

“Whatever those things are,” Nunnally murmured next to her brother. 

Prince Schneizel gave a heavy sigh, still looking irritated although the danger level that Gino sensed was going down, and he gestured toward the doorway he came from. “...We’ll talk inside.”

“Really?” Lelouch asked, incredulous, “because these things are spreading fast, and you think we have time to—” 

He ended his statement abruptly as Nunnally elbowed him sharply in the ribs, and then pulled him along as Cornelia and Euphemia made their way deeper into the Avalon, with Cornelia’s arm still tight around Euphemia’s shoulders, as Gino followed allow both Sir Guilford and Sir Dalton. 

“Yes,” Schneizel confirmed, as they all fell into step behind him, “but people are safe behind walls. They seem to be stopped by physical barriers, although have been observed to have weight and impact, enough to rattle windows. Any tightly sealed room should stop them, so long as there isn’t an obvious gap under or above the doors.”

“They infect _people_ ,” Lelouch shared, sounding disgusted. 

“They’re looking for people,” Schneizel added. “They seem to spread by touch.”

They approached a brightly lit room, furnished extravagantly with plush couches and gold filigree, with the walls shelved with expensive looking books and busts. 

Cornelia claimed one of the couches for herself, while Euphemia sat down gingerly next to her, smoothing out the skirt of her nightgown. Lelouch and Nunnally claimed another couch, and Schneizel the third one, while their knights all stood at attention behind their royal charges. 

“We’ll have to quarantine some,” Schneizel mused, “and see if the infection will fade away, or how long it takes before the person collapses from it, if they do at all.”

“Doubt it,” Lelouch groused, and Euphie only nodded in agreement. “We encountered one inside the palace. One of the former kitchen staff, who just— stood up again after being killed. And then being shot.”

“After?” Schneizel asked, eyes gleaming with interest. 

“It was Mrs. McKain,” Euphie lamented, “and she just— there was so much blood everywhere, but she kept _moving_. Like something just— took over, and it wasn’t her anymore.”

“Like she was just a puppet,” Nunnally murmured softly. 

Cornelia looked alarmed by this. “It’s made its way into the palace?”

“And spread,” Lelouch confirmed grimmly. 

It was unusual for either Schneizel or Cornelia to be out of the loop, and their displeasure showed. 

The second prince tapped a finger against the side of his face and said, “We need more information.”

— 

Apparently, it wasn’t just Pendragon. 

It was global.

By the time communications came back up, countless cities had been devastated, with Pendragon somehow being the least of the tragedies. Elsewhere, the black blight hit faster and more violently, and while the pace slowed down as time went on— sunlight in particular seemed to slow the spread of the infection down— there were places, cities, that were completely unsalvageable. 

People were fleeing to the countryside, to less populated areas, to more sunlit places. It seemed that the higher the population, the larger chance for the black spectres to appear in the skies overhead and rain down destruction and chaos. Many retreated to secluded areas, turning violent when others tried to join them. 

After the first hour, the rate of infection slowed down, until people weren’t nearly instantaneously affected, and those touched by the blight and still remained themselves could be placed under quarantine before they became feral. 

“What’s going on?” Euphie repeated to herself, the question asked under her breath even as she stared hard at the dozens of screens upon the Avalon, many documenting either the destruction of various cities around the world, or seeing into the quarantine sites to keep an eye on the people there. 

Two hours after the initial outbreak, after firing numerous types of weapons at the uncaring spectures, Princess Cornelia called upon the help of her knights to summon fire from the skies— to have the blackened mess catch flame and burn into it was gone. 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Prince Lelouch argued then, a little pale, “if it has no mass, weight, or heat… it’s like it’s not even there, but somehow it still catches fire?”

“Maybe it’s a gas.” Cornelia responded, “Who cares? It doesn’t matter so long as we know how to defeat it.”

“What if we capture one,” he suggested, lips thinned with disapproval at his own suggestion. “Can we contain it? Study it?”

“Do it on your own time,” she said, and then called for everyone’s attention. “Right now I need you, all of you, to back me up. Any instrument. Anyone without musical training, I want working on weapons that will burn these things to the ground.”

Schneizel merely gave a tired look at that point, “This is still my ship, sister.”

“Pretty please.” Cornelia added flatly.

“You’ll overextend yourself,” Lelouch warned her. 

“I will do what is necessary,” she corrected him, “to rain hellfire from the sky and clean out Pendragon.”

“...I didn’t think to bring my tuba,” Gino whispered to Euphemia, almost feeling a little guilty. It’s been months, but he hadn’t exactly… mastered the four main songs, since he had been working so hard at practicing to be a perfect accompaniment for Euphie. “Should I just go light things on fire?”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” she whispered back to him, the humor in her tone too light to be real, but it was a valiant attempt at something light-hearted nevertheless. “It might make it easier for her if there was already fuel for the flames. Just not the whole ship. Don’t light the ship on fire.”

It was long past midnight, and Gino could see Euphie’s eyes drooping every once in a while. Prince Lelouch managed to coax Princess Nunnally to sleep on one of the couches in an undisturbed meeting room, and Rolo stayed with her, presumably also getting some shut-eye to be in fighting shape later on. 

Everyone was starting to feel tired now that things were— they weren’t settling, per say, but they were in a safe location, even if the monitors continually showed the horrors that were still ongoing. 

There were technicians working furiously to spread and gather information with various groups around the world, the terminals of the Avalon bright and active even as Euphie, dwarfed in a military trench coat over her nightgown for warmth, constantly attempted to move a little out of the way so that she wouldn’t disturb the people working. She looked tired and a little sleepy, but a lot more frightened. 

“You should join Princess Nunnally,” Gino told her quietly. “A nap would be good. We might be awake for a long while yet.”

“No, no,” Euphemia insisted. “If Cornelia wants to use her Song, then I want to be awake to help her. It’ll be a few hours yet, I think, since I’m sure Schneizel will insist that we attempt with weapons fire first. That’s the smart move— if that works, then we can relay to everyone else what works, and—” 

A murmur was raised amongst a group near the front, and an attendant rushed to whisper something in Prince Schneizel’s ear. 

“It seems your fire idea works just fine, Cornelia,” Schneizel told her. “Although fires under a certain temperature will do nothing. You’ll have to do better than most Thermite Bombs. Thermate, probably. We have plenty of that in storage in Pendragon. Apparently napalm doesn’t burn hot enough to do anything.”

“They’ve had success?” She asked instead, ignoring the rest of the statement.

“Some.” Schneizel agreed, and the assistant nodded nervously. “Not all, although from tests it would seem as it temperature is the issue and not regions. It’ll be some time before we have definite confirmation. Perhaps your tests will be of assistance.”

“ _Do_ you carry thermate bombs on the Avalon?” Lelouch asked. 

In response, Schneizel just smiled and laid a hand on his hair, which only made Lelouch scowl. “Go and wake Nunnally, Lelouch. We’ll need her and that knight of hers as well for this experiment.”

“You’re avoiding the question. That’s suspicious.”

“Ask me again when you’re older.” Schneizel said instead. 

“What does that have to do with—? You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.” The younger prince glared petulantly for a second before he left, Sir Kururugi falling into step with him. 

“Euphie,” Cornelia murmured, drawing Euphemia’s gaze. “Go with Lelouch. Schneizel and I have things to talk about.”

Euphie hesitated a moment, looking like she wanted to protest, but Gino guided her always by the elbow out of the room, bowing slightly to the Second Prince and Princess before closing the door firmly shut. As he turned around, Euphemia huffed at him, looking comical in her tired state. 

“What could they be talking about that we’re not allowed to overhear?” Euphie demanded, even as they made their way down the hall toward the meeting rooms where Nunnally had fallen asleep. 

“Something important, I’m sure.” Gino told her, not sure he wanted to continue along that vein of conversation. 

“Important enough to kick both me and Lelouch out? We’re not little kids, what could they be saying—” 

“They probably don’t want you to listen in while they calculate what numbers would account as acceptable collateral damage.” Gino interjected quietly, too tired to keep a secret and not wanting to keep Euphie’s ire much longer. He just shrugged helplessly as she turned to give him a wounded look, and continued, “Firebombing Pendragon isn’t exactly… the nicest of options. But with the way those spectres are moving and infecting people? It’s probably the best option overall.”

“Overall to what?” Euphie asked, although she looked like she didn’t want to. 

Gino just shook his head, and opened the door to the bright room where the others were already conversing, Princess Nunnally awake now and whispering in concern with her brother, sitting up on the couch underneath the large military coat covering her in lieu of a blanket, and squinting a little even in the brightness of the room. Behind the couch, Sir Haliburton stood at attention, eyes glued to the conversation. 

“Are they at least giving people time to evacuate?” Nunnally was asking, sounding distraught. “They can’t— but what about all the people in the hangers? In the palace? And everyone in the city— they can’t all be infected yet, and they don’t deserve to be caught up in this!”

“I’m sure Schneizel and Cornelia thought of that,” Lelouch soothed his little sister, “and there are safe areas in Pendragon to hide.”

“Not from Cornelia’s fires, there aren’t,” the young princess protested, and tugged on her brother’s sleeve, “we should be down there. We should be there— fighting for everyone else. We should at least help guide people to safety, or— distract those spectres somehow.”

The prince looked distraught by his sister’s distress, but it was Sir Kururugi who laid a calming hand on her shoulder, and leaned in to tell her, “Not until Prince Schneizel clears it. We’re not to leave the Avalon.”

“Suzaku,” Nunnally said, her expression a guise of betrayal, “you would listen to Schneizel over us?”

“My top priority is your safeties above all else,” he told her, tone gentle. 

Nunnally turned to her own knight, imploring, “Rolo, you’d help, right? It’s not fair that we’re up here, safe from everything, while people down on the ground are in danger and they don’t even know what’s coming. They’re fighting for their lives, but they don’t know—” 

Sir Haliburton looked torn, young, and he glanced over to Prince Lelouch instead, who could only look away guiltily. 

Nunnally followed his gaze, and then seemed to steel herself as she shook her brother’s arm. “You wouldn’t leave those people to die, I know you wouldn’t.”

“We don’t have enough information,” Lelouch told her weakly, “and I’m not putting you in danger like that.”

At the edge of the room, Euphemia wrung her hands, unwilling to draw attention to herself even as she watched on sadly. 

“...But you’d go without me,” Nunnally surmised, her grip on his sleeve tightening, “that’s not fair.”

He laid a hand on her hair, “In this case, we need a solid plan. If we act by ourselves, we might be getting in the way if Schneizel and Cornelia have something bigger in mind. This isn’t like Europia, Nunnally. We’re not the ones calling the shots right now. If the knights acted without our permission, how do you think things would have changed back then?”

The princess wilted a bit. “...They would have gotten in the way, and you would have to work extra hard to plan around them.”

“If we want to save as many people as we can,” he told her softly, “we can’t get in the way.”

“But… you _do_ have something planned, don’t you, Lelouch?” Euphemia finally asked, seeing Nunnally’s defeated expression. She stepped forward finally, with Gino staying just a half step away from her at all times. “You already have a plan of your own.”

Lelouch turned his head to look at her, eyes curiously bright in the way of all _Liedmeisters_ , and he just gave her a wry, secretive smile in return. 

“Several.” He admitted quietly, which only made his knight smile darkly.

— 

When dawn came, Pendragon burned under white-hot fire that rained from the sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts, part 2 of Gino's chapter is entirely done, as is CC's chapter. There is also more than 10k written for... Rolo's chapter, Lelouch's chapter, a second chapter for Kallen, and a second chapter for Suzaku. And I mean each, because apparently I'm taking an art project approach with this one by writing five chapters at once, lol. I've actually got my fingers crossed that I might finish this story for April Camp NaNo, because who knows! I'm notoriously horrible at ending stories, but boy do I try.


	4. Tempo Dolce, part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am an absolute troll, here's the second part of Gino's chapter just a day later. ...No, I just didn't really want to break it up too much, but needed the time to look over the latter half of it so I figured I'd do two updates in two days. That's right, if you haven't read a new chapter yesterday, then you can go back for ANOTHER 20K+ because this is a two chapter update in two days.

He never knew how much he _missed_ the sky.

Gino had been recruited straight from school, not even having completed the Academy, so he’d never been in real battles before. Simulations, yes, tests, yes, and he had his own prototype Knightmare Frame thanks to being Princess Euphemia’s Knight of Honor, and because Princess Cornelia was adamant about her little sister being properly protected.

Gino spent months training, and sparred against other Knights, experiencing the thrill and exhilaration of going up against the best of the best.

But he had never been in a real pinch before.

The night that most would soon after dub as ‘Ragnarok’ changed all of that, and left him yearning for the battles he never thought he would miss.

Hours of flying, of rescuing groups of people, of weaving between spectres and differentiating those with black blight lines on their skin and those running from those people… if he got anything wrong, then he would have doomed everyone he rescued.

Gino laughed in the cockpit of the Tristen that night, high on the adrenaline and rush as he tag-teamed with Suzaku and Rolo, following Prince Lelouch’s orders as the time slowly count down toward sunrise and the end of the operation.

Together, they pulled— _thousands_ of people, directed them, scooped them up if they had to, working tirelessly through the night as one would provide distraction from the spectres in the air (usually Gino, as he was the fastest and he slowly noticed they seemed to give him a wide berth), depositing them either on the Avalon if they had to, or at least a good several miles from the crowded streets of Pendragon, giving them an ample head start on leaving.

Euphie’s voice stayed in his ear, on comms with him the entire time, chiding when he took risks, and laughing with him at successful rescues. The deadline was set, and while Prince Schneizel and Princess Cornelia prepared, right now it was their time to shine, with the wide broadcasts for a city-wide evacuation before sunrise, and they were soon joined by other Knightmare Frames, others from the palace hangers who followed in their direction to save people, no matter who they were, and Gino was—

Exhilarated.

This, he thought, cutting through the sky with the Tristen, transforming his Knightmare to scoop up two children running from someone infected just in the nick of time with metal fingers that scraped against the concrete as he picked them up because he was flying so low— this was what he was meant to do.

“Go, Gino,” Euphemia breathed in the comms, just as ardent, “you’re meant for so much.”

—

It was nearly a week of the Spectres, of the Blight as the spread of black tendrils became coined, before there was confirmation that the royal family was immune to its spread. That their loyal knights seemed to have protection— if not full immunity, then at least a very good resistance.

It was the Spectres that spread the Blight originally, and it was the Spectres that spread the Blight far and wide, because it didn’t spread by itself other than touch, and if that were the case, then strict quarantines would have stopped the spread easily enough.

It was nearly a week before Princess Marrybell and her Glinda Knights ran afoul of the Blight and its Spectres, and they found something profoundly interesting: the Spectres seemed to shy away from her, like an invisible barrier between her and them. The Blight slid right off the skin of her Knight of Honor, whom had been grabbed by an infected individual only to have the black dust right off.

“That’s exactly how it’s like,” Gino confirmed, remembering all the times the Tristen had been sent out to rescue civilians at that point. Remembering when Euphemia had been inside his Knightmare Frame, and how the Spectres gave them such a wide berth.

No one wanted to _actively_ experiment, though, which made it difficult until scientists managed to get blood samples from knights and royalty alike, to infect with the Blight. From those experiments, it seemed that the Blight just— wouldn’t infect the royal family. Wouldn’t affect them, and wouldn’t affect the majority of their knights. Some did eventually get the Blight, but only after large doses and repeat treatments, and those were the newer knights, those who had served their prince or princess for under a year.

Further tests, with the Glaston Knights, with the Glinda Knights, with the Black Knights… with all the knights that served under the employ of a prince or princess without being their Knight of Honor, displayed a remarkable resistance to the Blight, but not full immunity.

“It’s like the old oaths,” Princess Nunnally whispered, as if afraid of verbalizing too loud and losing the magic, “when people are sworn into service and we would— protect them, remember? That’s what the wording was. That we would _protect_ them somehow. Maybe that’s something to do with it?”

It made sense, Gino thought, after he offered his own blood as well to find that somehow the Blight, like the Spectres, seemed to shy away from him. Like with Princess Euphemia.

Further testing identified differing reactions with the Spectres and the Blight— while Euphie and Princess Marrybell seemed to rebuff the dark stains, those like Prince and Lelouch and Princess Nunnally—

The Blight seemed _attracted_ to their blood, although it was as if it hit a solid barrier somehow when it came close, and couldn’t get to them. But there was something about Princess Euphemia, about Princess Marrybell, that seemed to repulse the Blight somehow, and when that was brought up, Euphie had a frightening expression on her face.

“Does that mean,” she asked the scientists specifically, “that I can go down and— rescue them? If I travel with a group of people, would the Blight just stay away from them?”

“Euphie, no,” Cornelia protested, “do you really think it’s only the Blight you need to be worried about? Those infected are _violent_. You may be immune from the disease, but you’re not immune to those _people_.”

But it was a thought that wouldn’t leave Euphemia’s head, and Gino knew it.

More tests revealed that _Liedmeisters_ were… more immune somehow. Or had more immunity to spread. Either way, while most of the royal family were immune and shared that with their Knights of Honor and maybe one or two others, if that… _Liedmeisters_ spread it to… a dozen others. Likely more. All of the Glaston Knights were practically immune. All of the Glinda Knights. All of the Black Knights.

“How far does that spread?” Lelouch asked seriously, “How does it work?”

Except no one could figure that part out.

—

Third Princess Euphemia li Britannia, Gino decided, had to be one of the most amazing people on the entire planet. One of the kindest, most sincere, and genuinely caring people who pushed herself beyond everything that was expected of her in order to create a better and safer place for people.

Sixteen years old and inexperienced with the cruelty of the world, yet she had a greater heart than anyone he had ever met. They were the same age yet Gino felt like he hadn’t managed to accomplish even a lick of what she had, despite his achievement as Knight of Honor to a _Liedmeister_.

If only his parents met her, Gino thought a little bitterly, then maybe their falling out wouldn’t have been as bad as it was, with him walking out and them swearing to burn his name from the family registry.

Not that it mattered, since they never did it, and then it was too late for Gino to make amends after the day most coined as the Ragnarok Connection.

Now he was the only remaining member alive of the main Weinberg family branch, and not just the dishonored heir.

Gino managed to find himself a stash of— brandy? Rum? Something awful tasting and awful smelling that burned his throat all the way down to his stomach but helped to clear the cobwebs in his head, taking several bottles of the amber liquid to sulk in a small room adjacent to the library, not bothering with the lights. It felt right to just sit in the dark with only the dull moonlight filtering from french windows and the faraway twinkling fairy lights that adorned the garden far below.

He didn’t bother with glasses, toasting with entire bottles silently and grimacing with every swallow that burned down his throat.

Once, he heard the door open and he tensed, frozen, as the light from the hallway spilled in the room, but whoever had been on the other side left quickly enough.

He didn’t know how long he lounged there, collapsed onto one of the plush couches of the palace nursing a bottle of bitter… something that tasted awful and made him feel worse, yet somehow also made him feel better than before.

It didn’t make sense. He didn’t get along with his family. Never agreed with them. They barely bothered with him most of the time, leaving him to be raised by servants and nannies, like a true child of noblemen. His family had never been the type for hugs and kisses, or sweet words. His mother had always been distant, and his father expected far too much of him, and—

The door opened again, this time accompanied by the light sounds of a long skirt swishing as someone stepped in and closed the door again, not bothering to turn on the lights.

“Gino?” Euphie’s voice asked, small in the dark.

“I’m not here,” Gino murmured, because that made sense to him.

While it made sense to him, it didn’t seem to deter Euphemia, whose shadowed form made her way over to the couch he claimed, and she sat on the floor next to him. Normally, he would have protested— princesses shouldn’t be sitting on the floor, after all, while their knights took up the entirety of the couch. Right now, though, he barely noticed.

“...I heard.” She said, and he didn’t answer her, staring up at the ceiling instead and hoping the gold filigree and elaborate paintings might provide him answers.

She stayed quiet for a long minute as Gino refused to respond, and then moved to snatch the bottle he was holding close to his chest, bringing it to her own lips and taking a long swallow before she jerked away quickly, coughing and sputtering at the bitter liquid.

“That,” she said, voice hoarse and she wiped her mouth with her sleeve indelicately, “is _atrocious_. Where did you get that?”

“I have no idea,” Gino slurred, “I don’t remember.”

Had his head been in a better place, he might have baulked at the idea of her drinking as well. He had seen her nurse thin flutes of champagne for formal events, and toast with wine, but— this— whatever this was, didn’t feel fit for a princess.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She said quietly.

“I didn’t lose anything, not really,” he tried to deny. He raised a hand, a finger, to wave in an effort to make his point through his slurring words, “In fact, you can even say I gained! I gain. I gained a title. Lord Weinberg. My parents were going to disinherit me. Huh. Now it’s too late. Can’t disinherit me anymore.”

He let his hand drop at the last words, once again staring intently up at the ceiling.

“And it’s funny,” he murmured in the dark, with Euphemia’s warmth pressed close against his shoulder, “but I really miss them. I didn’t miss them before they died. We didn’t talk for nearly a full year, but then— the attack happened, and I. Missed them. Immediately. The moment I learned. Like some spoiled,” he drawled the word out, it feeling like liquid on his tongue as he curled his lips, “ _brat_.”

He felt awful, but so light. Lighter than before. He’d likely feel even worse later because of this. He felt really warm, uncomfortably so, but didn’t want to move.

Euphemia just leaned her head against his shoulder, the angle awkward with her sitting next to the couch and him laying on it.

“I took them for granted,” Gino realized. Even if they were never going to speak again, he just assumed they would always be there, disappointed in him. It was something he could count on, like the sunrise in the morning, and the moon at night. With them suddenly and irrevocably gone, it felt like the sun disappeared and he didn’t know how to feel about that. “I am an… awful… son.”

“You’re not,” Euphemia said, voice subdued. “From what you’ve told me, you just… disagreed with them. And you’re allowed to disagree with your parents.”

“I should have listened to them,” Gino lamented.

“No.” Euphie shook her head, hair a tickle against his neck. “I love my family, but I disagree with them all the time. Cornelia says things that infuriate me sometimes, and Father… well, there’s very little I agree with him about. And Lelouch just makes me so mad sometimes… even Nunnally! I love her so much, but sometimes we just can’t see eye to eye, and we just can’t agree. I’d miss them terribly if they disappeared, and I’d mourn for— my whole life, maybe, but I wouldn’t regret disagreeing with them. I’m not an awful sister because I don’t agree with them. I’m not an awful daughter.”

She turned slightly. “And you’re not an awful son.”

“You’re sweet, Euphie,” he said, the words coming all slurred together. “Wish I could be more like you.”

The room felt like it was spinning, and he reached blindly for the bottle again, only to have Euphemia hold it out of reach.

“Alright, mister,” she told him, still soft, but fonder, “that’s enough of that. You’re going to regret drinking so much in the morning.”

“Then I will regret it,” he huffed, “in the morning.”

“Not if I have anything to do about it.” She said, and then patted his ribs, pulling back as he grunted. “Water. Aspirin. And then bed for you. Come on.”

She stood up in one smooth motion, and Gino squinted at her in the moonlight, suddenly wondering if she was even real or if his imagination somehow conjured her up— this perfect girl, both powerful and agreeing with him, more cheerful than anyone he’d ever met in his entire life when he was used to the one forcibly cheering up a room.

She extended a hand down to him, and grasped him by the wrist, before yanking and then huffing.

“You’re,” she said, as she managed to raise him several inches before he collapsed back on the couch, “really heavy! What are you wearing, metal plates?”

He giggled. “You’re— just tiny! You… and Rolo and Suzaku… even Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally. _Tiny_. How does that happen? Your family is so tall.”

“We’re not tiny,” Euphemia lamented, “We’re just younger. You’re the one abnormally tall. How tall _are_ you, anyway?”

He grinned at her. “Last I checked… six… two? And I’m still growing! Middle of a growth spurt. I think.”

“Giant,” she accused, and this time managed to heave him up to a sitting position. “Work with me here!”

“Tell me something,” he said instead, before Euphie could attempt to pull him off the couch completely. The world was spinning around him at the sudden movement, and his stomach felt a bit queasy, bitterness on the back of his tongue. “Something you’ve never told anyone before. Something true.”

“I think you’re really drunk,” Euphemia said with a huff. “That’s true. And something I haven’t had to tell anyone before.”

“I just told you—” He hesitated, feeling his throat rebelling on him, “that I thought I was a bad son.”

“And I told you that’s not true,” she argued back.

“So tell me something that _is._ About you.”

He wanted to lie back down, but something told him that would be a terrible idea, so he just slumped against the back of the couch, and watched as Euphie seemed to give up for the moment on pulling him up, and sat down gingerly next to him.

“I won’t tell,” he promised her, and then tapped his own temple and amended, “Probably won’t even remember!”

“You want a secret from me,” Euphie summed, and gave him a long look. “You know me this well, and you still think I could hide secrets?”

“No, no,” he slurred, “not state secrets. Or anything like that. Something about _you_. Worthless to others. Like me. Like what I said. Tell me something before you make me— suffer through the hangover in the morning.”

“I think you’re silly,” she told him readily. “I don’t like the way the palace chef prepares peas, but I eat all of it anyway because it’s expected of me. I love crepes. I have a mild allergy to blueberries. I always wear pink because Cornelia likes putting me in pink, but I actually like… orange and pale greens a lot more.”

He gave her a smile, feeling a bit dopey, and said, “Okay.”

He was going to push himself off the couch when Euphie continued, tone more subdued.

“I don’t think my mother cares about me,” she said. “I think Cornelia loves me more than my own mother. I don’t think mother really cares about Cornelia, either, and that’s why she was so— attached to Lady Marianne. I don’t actually remember the names of all my half-siblings. There seems to be more every year! I don’t like all of them, either. Carine can be so mean, and I don’t understand why. How can being mean to other people possibly make her happy? When I was twelve, there was a month when they were in the same music lessons and I kept mixing up Lelouch and Marrybell, and they don’t even look anything like each other! They just have that same— aura, I guess.

“I don’t think anyone thinks I would ever inherit the throne. I don’t think father even _wants_ me to inherit. I used to try and get his attention when I was— really young. But the palace servants kept telling me that I wasn’t to disturb the _Emperor’s_ time. Not father. Just Emperor. I know I’m not supposed to, but I really like Suzaku and he’s never going to see me that way back.”

She paused, and then said, “I love my siblings, but you’re the first friend I ever made. You’re my best friend, and I love seeing you happy. It makes me happy too, even when I don’t feel happy. And I— I’m not happy most of the time.”

He stared at her, at the tight twist of her mouth and the way her eyes were downcast, staring intently down at the knot of her fingers, and thought about all the friends he made back in school. About how easy it was to make friends, because Gino liked being cheerful and happy and supportive, and Euphie was always so supportive and kind as well, ready with a smile and listening ear.

Just like how she came to find him, and comfort him, and reassure him. Like how she was trying to take care of him now, even though he was bigger and heavier than her, and he was just causing her trouble, wanting to know stupid secrets even though he wasn’t owed any of that.

“I,” he said, “am so drunk.”

Euphie chuckled quietly. “Yes. I’ve noticed. On the bad stuff, too.”

“I didn’t agree to be your knight because you’re a princess, you know,” Gino told her, feeling a lot less drunk in that one moment. “I didn’t do it for fame or prestige. I didn’t do it to get close to the royal family because I— wanted something. I don’t know.”

“I know.” She smiled at him, the twist of her lips wry. “That’s why you were selected.”

“I,” Gino declared, “decided I wanted to be your knight because. You are my friend. Because you’re _nice_. Because I think you’re going to make a difference. You make the world a better place, Euphie, one person at a time. One day at a time. And I wanted to be there, too, to help you do it. I’ve had a lot of friends. I make a lot of friends. But you… you too, you’re my best friend.”

She dove in and hugged him tightly, head tucked under his chin, and Gino patted her back on the back gingerly for a moment before giving up the ghost of propriety and hugged her back, nearly inhaling some of her hair.

“Oh no,” he said, as pink strands tickled his nose and he felt his stomach lurch, “Euphie, wait, you need to—”

She drew back immediately, looking alarmed. “What? What do you need? What is it—?”

He didn’t have any time to move away before he retched and threw up thin liquid all over her dress.

Euphemia was stunned a moment, frozen to stillness, and then she raised a hand to her nose to block out the smell, and started laughing.

“You!” She hiccupped, snickering even as Gino groaned and pressed his forehead against the back of the couch in attempt to will away his pounding head and spinning world, “You threw up— in my lap?”

She laughed, and giggled, and pushed at him, finding the situation hilarious. “That’s— that’s _so_ disgusting! You can’t— you can’t take it back now, you know? Being my best friend. You _threw up on me_.”

Gino only groaned again, and Euphemia laughed, sharp and delighted, before she caught the smell and made gagging noises of her own.

—

It was Cornelia who tried to coax Euphie’s abilities out of her, despite the younger princess’s frustration.

“Temperature is a construct, not a constraint,” Princess Cornelia told her gently, hands over Euphemia’s, watched over by Gino and the Glaston Knights, ready with instruments in hand. “It’s an agitation of molecules, fast and slow alike. It does not limit or impede you once you understand the speeds which your element wants to travel.”

“It wants to stay water,” Euphemia said stubbornly, although she allowed Cornelia to move her around. “Why would I ever need— ice, or steam, anyway? I want to help people, not weaponize this ability.”

“You can provide safe passageway over water via bridges,” Cornelia soothed her, “warm people with hyperthermia. You should be able to tell the difference between clean and dirty water, between ocean and pond.”

Euphemia looked about to protest, but didn’t.

In the corner of his eye, Gino could see Prince Lelouch watching from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He didn’t carry an instrument on him, but Gino assumed he was here for moral support, with the way he also encouraged Euphemia to practice with her element.

“Steam is impossible,” Euphemia said after a long hour of music practice, where she might have changed the temperature of her element by just the slightest, but certainly not enough for it to change from liquid to— anything else. “It requires _fire_. It just— it doesn’t want to be hot, not without an outside source!”

They stuck with small bubbles of water, each barely a few droplets wide, floating in the air around them as Euphemia Sang. Cornelia would test the warmth of each droplet, coaxing Euphie to do better each time. After an hour, even Gino was starting to feel exhausted, light-headed from playing the same song over and over on the tuba. His lips felt slightly numb.

Cornelia seemed to have run out of suggestions by then, unable to explain an element not her own to her little sister, not in a way that Euphemia could understand.

“This is impossible,” Euphie despaired, glancing up at the gleaming water glittering above them, still held aloft now after many Songs, although within a few seconds, it would all be sure to rain back down to the ground. “Some people aren’t very good with their elements— maybe I’m just one of them.”

It was only at this point that Prince Lelouch interrupted, having observed all the proceedings.

“Then how are you holding it up in the air?” He asked, drawing their attention as he finally stepped into the room and walked toward his sisters. “Your song isn’t _air_. How are they still up there?”

He pointed at the droplets, and then just like that, they all splashed onto the ground, like a broken spell.

“You weren’t singing a second ago,” he pointed out. “And they were still held in the air. According to you, you shouldn’t be able to do that either. How are you defying gravity when apparently all you can do is create water?”

Euphemia blinked, looking confused a moment, and then thoughtful as she looked down on the wet ground.

“I don’t know how it is with water,” Lelouch continued, “but with Earth, it’s a _push_. You mold it, like clay, and convince it to go in ways it doesn’t want to go. It’s solid, yes, but if you apply enough pressure, if you control the flow just enough, then you can grind rocks down to sand. Break through concrete. Create diamonds.”

He stopped in front of Euphie, was now looking at him curiously.

“My Song is Earth,” he told her plainly, “but there is still magma underneath the surface. There are still caverns and underground reservoirs. One element is not limited to only that, or else how do you coax your water to flow like that?”

Cornelia smiled at him proudly. “Well said.”

“I…” Euphemia laced her fingers together in front of her, brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know. I always thought water looked so beautiful with light shining through it, like prisms.”

“And the more you Sang, the longer the water stayed aloft.” Lelouch observed, and patted her on the shoulder. “Water remembers, in a way. But water is only liquid. If you want it to stay that way, you need to change its shape. Ice will hold where water will not, and steam will go where water can not.”

“Water is a powerful element,” Cornelia continued where Lelouch left off, reassuring Euphemia, “and you should be proud. There is no need to learn everything in one day, but you mustn’t give up and put yourself down as mediocre.”

That seemed to cheer Euphemia up a little, if nothing else, and she gave her sister a hug.

“Once more,” Cornelia declared afterward, brushing aside Euphie’s bangs with a small smile, “from the top.”

Princess Euphemia didn’t make much more progress that day, and Prince Lelouch seemed to have wandered off before the practice ended, but she seemed more cheery after that.

—

One disaster seemed to yield another.

Gino wasn’t there that day with the fiasco with Prince Lelouch and Suzaku, having been sent on an errand for Euphie earlier that day to pick up birthday presents for Nunnally and Rolo whose birthdays were in two days, and Euphemia had been looking forward to the presents she commissioned for them earlier that month.

No one called him, and by the time he made it back to the makeshift base with the wrapped packages under his arm, there was a flurry of activity.

“What’s going on?” He asked one of the harried Black Knights curiously, having snagged them by a sleeve.

The uniformed soldier just shook her head, “...there was a structural collapse.”

She hurried off before Gino could get more out of her, but it motivated him to move quickly and stash away the presents before going to look for his princess.

The story that he managed to piece together from others was simple. Prince Lelouch and his knight had gone out to survey a site ahead of everyone else, taking the Lancelot and Shinkiro. They were gone maybe two hours before the distress call came in, and there was an… emergency.

Somehow in the mess, the Gawain and the Vincent had launched for immediate assistance, with Euphemia sitting in the second seat of the Gawain as Nunnally piloted. They took along only a handful of knights who managed to suit up the fastest. 

When they all came back, Suzaku, Prince Lelouch, and Princess Nunnally had been admitted to the makeshift hospital, with Prince Schneizel on the way in the Avalon to bring his siblings to a better treatment facility. Euphemia and Rolo were staying with them, although it surprised Gino to note that Euphemia was staying with Suzaku, who was in a separate area from the vi Britannia siblings.

“What… happened?” Gino asked in shock as he took in the area of the infirmary, glad that he dropped off the presents because in this state, he might have dropped them and broken the delicate porcelain pieces.

Euphemia was sitting at Suzaku’s bedside, looking worried and anxious, and Suzaku was…

Dark streaks stained his skin, like ink blots and bruises, tendrils crawling up like veins underneath his skin, lines faint but unmistakable.

Gino had seen the symptoms enough to understand exactly what it was, but it didn’t make any _sense_.

Knights didn’t really contract the Blight. Knights of Honor, especially, were as immune as the royal family. They could have the Blight dumped over their heads and come out the other side just to wipe it off. There had been enough tests conducted in the past few months to confirm that the immunity the royal family had against the Blight was shared by their knights, just as how _Liedmeisters_ shared limited abilities with those who swore themselves into service.

Unless Suzaku managed to _swallow_ a Spectre or something unreasonable like that, he should have been entirely immune to the Blight that was motionless under his skin. The only upside was that the dark stains didn’t seem to be moving; growing.

“Gino,” Euphemia called out, her hands holding onto Suzaku’s as he slumbered. She was pale and shaking, and Gino went immediately to enfold her in a hug, keeping wide eyes on Suzaku’s still form.

“I’m sorry,” Euphie blabbered, voice wet with tears, “I had to, I had to do it, I couldn’t lose them both, I didn’t know what was going to happen, I just— I had to!”

Gino shushed her, fingers carding through her hair soothingly, although he still felt in shock at the sight.

“Whatever it is,” he murmured against her hair, feeling as she snuck one arm around his waist and squeezed him back in her hug, “it’s going to be okay.”

There was dread in his stomach, though, seeing Suzaku like this. If he was this bad off, then what the hell happened to Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally?

He must have asked that question aloud, because Euphemia began to cry in ernest.

—

Things changed quickly those few days, as the Avalon came to house the vi Britannia siblings, and stationed several doctors down at the Black Knights base to keep a watch over both Euphemia and Suzaku.

The lines of Blight faded slowly, the worst of it gone two days later, although Suzaku woke long before that and stayed silent the entire time, only speaking when a question was directed at him and not elaborating unless asked of him.

“We’re going to have to leave,” Euphemia told Gino quietly, and then rubbed at her red-rimmed eyes again, her pale skin leaving red marks like a starburst of tiny broken blood vessels under her eyes, and Gino wanted to take her hands away from her face every time she went to rub at her eyes, but at the same time, felt she needed at least this one physical tic to help ground her. “I have to— with Suzaku, at least. The doctors are worried, because he’s still infected. It’s not completely gone, and I have to be there…”

She trailed off, looking about to cry again, even if her tears had long since run dry.

“This wasn’t what I wanted,” she confessed, wringing her hands, her eyes hidden beneath her bangs, “this wasn’t what I wanted at all.”

He recalled her confessed crush, her breathy secret and cautious eyes when he was first told, and pulled her into another hug, reluctant to let her go.

“I think,” she told him, voice muffled slightly by the jacket of his uniform, “I’m going to volunteer. For— testing. The scientists, if they could just find what it is that makes the royal family immune, or what keeps the Blight away from me, maybe we can find a way to stop it somehow. Prevent it, and maybe even heal the ones touched by it. Suzaku was in such terrible shape before, and he’s— he’s better. Getting better. Slowly.”

“Okay,” he told her, resting his chin atop her head, worried, “then that’s what we’ll do.”

Except Euphie shook her head after a moment, and pulled back from him.

“I need you to stay,” she told him with a wobbly smile, “with Lelouch.”

“What?” Gino exclaimed, feeling blank. Despite his trips and outings, and the errands that he ran for her, he hadn’t really been separate from Euphemia for over a year now, not for more than a few hours at a time. The research facility Euphemia must have been alluding to was— in Cambodia, hours away, even with the Tristen.

“I’m taking Suzaku away from him,” she said quietly, and her smile collapsed, “it’s— it’s the only way to keep them both safe. They can’t stay together anymore, and I have to make sure Suzaku gets better. But Lelouch needs someone to look after him. He’s always had a knight with him… they’ve always been together, and he just can’t be alone right now. Not with—” She bit at her bottom lip, her voice much softer as she continued, “...not with Nunnally’s injuries now.”

Princess Nunnally had been the first of the three to wake, the first to be thoroughly examined by the doctors for a clear prognosis: she would never be able to walk again.

She was set to go back to Pendragon, or the remains of the Britannian capitol, because along with her paralysis was the revelation that she was another _Liedmeister_ , and a very special one that none of them had ever seen before. There were a handful of knights, the ones who accompanied the princesses on the rescue mission, who had seen her— Sing. The site had been canvassed by knights the past two days, and the amount of blood found was astounding.

By all rights, Prince Lelouch should not be alive, and yet he was, without a scar to be seen.

It was Lelouch who woke last, as silent as Suzaku, if not more so. The two had not been in the same room since the accident, the earthquake, but Prince Lelouch was at least moving about slowly, carefully, giving succinct instructions for his sister to be taken care of, because the revelation of her as a _Liedmeister_ meant there was another in line for the throne, and she would have to be crowned accordingly.

He didn’t like to acknowledge the injuries he must have suffered, preferring to ignore anyone who tried to bring it up with him, colder and more closed off than ever.

“He’s going to need someone there,” Euphie repeated, nodding to herself, “and he’s not going to trust anyone new, not yet. He’s going to— need help. People will come for Nunnally. Her abilities are unique, and they’ll try to take her away from him. You’ve spent the last year with us, you know him by now. If nothing else, he won’t push you away. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She smiled up at him, and the reached to straighten out his shirt, trembling only slightly. “Keep him safe. And grounded. At least until he gets another knight. I… this is my fault, and I’m asking you to help clean up my mess for me…”

“That’s my job,” he reassured her softly, “and it’s not your fault. If not for you, things would have been worse. This is the best outcome. You did the best you could.”

Euphemia’s fragile smile fell, and her eyes welled up again. “...He hates me.”

“He doesn’t,” Gino soothed, not sure whether she was referring to either Suzaku or Lelouch.

“Cornelia’s going to pick up us,” she told him, after drying her tears again. “And I… I’m going to call you every single day, okay?”

“Of course,” he said, feeling more than a little lost.

“Convince him to get another knight. He won’t want to, but— annoy him into it, if you have to. And make sure the new knight is a _good_ one. Really good. And then once this is fixed, I’ll see you again.”

“I’ll look after him,” Gino promised, and Euphie wiped at her eyes again before hugging him one last time.

—

For the past month, Gino had a routine. He sets up a video call daily: nine in the evening, on the dot, although sometimes it may have been five minutes late on occasion when they would message each other earlier in the day if they were busy. For the past week, however, Gino managed to grab the time in the evenings for a private call, nine on the dot.

That night, it started off as usual, with the video picked up in a dark room while Gino himself was already settled on front of the laptop set up in his quarters, a towel still on his head from his shower and already changed into a plain white t-shirt and pajamas. The dark on the other side of the line would have been alarming if he wasn’t already used to it.

“Hey, Suzaku,” Gino started, with a flicking wave of his fingers at the camera and half-hearted grin. “How have you been? How’s Euphie?”

It took a long moment before the lights were switched on the other side, and a tired looking Suzaku sat down in front of the camera on the other end. He looked— better. A little bit better, each day, like the dark black lines on his skin was slowly fading away to grey.

“She’s fine,” he said. “More energetic today. Princess Cornelia came back in the afternoon.”

That was good. Cornelia made sure that the tests went at a slower pace, and that it was less intrusive and just… less, in general. Euphemia wasn’t very good at telling people no, especially nosy scientists who would dig and dig and dig as if they weren’t working with an actual person, but a machine. Princess Cornelia, on the other hand, had all the experience she needed with scientists and was quick to set up an intervention if her little sister was being pushed too hard.

For a moment, Gino ached to be where his princess was, instead of out in the frey like he always wanted.

But he made a promise.

“How’s…” Suzaku squirmed, unlike the normally calm and poised knight Gino had gotten to know in Pendragon. “How’s Lelouch doing?”

“He’s—” What was he supposed to say? The calls started like this each time, five minutes first for Suzaku to check up on the situation before Euphie took over, because the Japanese boy deserved at least that much of Gino’s time. How was Gino supposed to break down the presence of one Karen Stadtfeld, who ended up not being a girl by that name at all? “Doing okay. C.C.’s with him.”

Suzaku deserved to know, and shouldn’t find out through other people, but… Gino rubbed a hand through his still damp hair, tugging on the towel in thought. He didn’t want to be the one who broke the news.

...But who else would?

“Got a new recruit today,” Gino tested out, trying to figure out how to break this gently. “Good pilot.”

_Very_ attractive, he didn’t want to say. Also ended up having a Japanese name, he very much did not want to say.

Time to emphasize their differences, he thought.

Gino grinned a bit weakly and gestured towards his front with his hands. “She’s crazy as a bag of cats. Jumped right into the fight with barely twenty minutes at the manual. Never seen anything like it! No ranged weapons, no tricks, just got up right close and personal with no fear at all. Bit quiet, bit standoff-ish, bit the type I might really like.”

That at least seemed to get Suzaku to chuckle. “What’s a type you _don’t_ like, Gino?”

“I can safely list at least half a dozen people I would never dream of flirting with,” he told the other knight with a serious expression before that softened into a smile. “...She’ll be a good fit out here.”

Out at the very heart of the fight, where no other member of the royal family dared to go anymore. The Black Knights were nothing if not an effective and well-oiled machine under Prince Lelouch’s command, known for never losing the battle whether it was against other soldiers or now against the undefeatable Blight-Spectres. Especially in the past month as the Prince seemed to have thrown himself into the midst of the fighting, and it was— easy to see that he needed that distraction.The few times that Gino fought with them before that horrible day had him marveling at their efficiency and almost fanatical dedication to the Black Prince, leaving no margin for error in battles. Fighting with them _after_ … well, he could understand how the Black Knights were often associated with the word _miracle_.

It was easy to see how he gained his moniker back then, gaining victory after victory to reinforce the titles Euphie admitted with a sigh about her brother being a chessmaster and strategic genius. It was well known that the only person Prince Lelouch never managed to defeat was Prince Schneizel, who held the reputation of being undefeatable like a scepter.

(Although Euphie also told him in a whisper, sharing a gleeful secret about the royal family, that Schneizel stopped accepting Lelouch’s challenges after the younger prince turned twelve, and that she and Nunnally were sure all the earlier wins had been because of the difference in age and experience before, and that if they were to played now, it was likely the two princes would be on very even ground.)

Suzaku’s smile turned rueful. “I’m glad. We lost too many people lately.”

Gino wasn’t sure he would still be glad after what he had to say, but. It didn’t seem right to put it off more.

“She’s really focused.” He said. “Been here for a day, but… Rakshata’s impressed. Says she’s never seen anyone pick things up so fast anymore. Intuitive. Good reflexes. Apparently her test scores from the Academy were at the top as well. And they just kept testing! She spent hours in the simulators even after battle.”

“Sounds like you like her a lot.” Suzaku frowned. “...Why would they need to test her in the simulators?”

Do or die.

“They wanted to get all the adjustments for the Guren out of the way.” Gino told him, and then winced as he saw the expression on Suzaku’s face shift into something which meant he understood. An average Black Knight would be fitted for a KMF, yes, but those were the typical Sutherlands or Burais. Rakshata, on the other hand, had been working on the Guren for months already, and it would take a special pilot to handle a special frame.

“Then…” It was almost painful to watch the myriad of emotions cross the other boy’s face, finally ending on a unsettling blankness. “What’s her name?”

Ahh. Gino winced. “Kozuki… Kallen.”

There was no recognition for that name, but Gino could see the tension in Suzaku’s jaw as he committed that name to memory.

“They don’t seem very, uh. Keen to speak to each other.” He wasn’t sure if that information was good or bad. “But I think she’ll do a good job.”

“...You’ll show her the ropes, then?”

“Yeah.” Gino confirmed. He squirmed, well aware that their usual five minutes were coming to a close. “So you’ll keep an eye on Euphie for me until I get back, right?”

Suzaku slumped. “...Of course. I always do.”

The Japanese boy looked ready to vacate the chair, but Gino just wasn’t the type of person who could let him go like that. Instead, he waved at the camera, willing their conversation to at least close on a slightly more uplifting note. “Anything you’d like me to pass along? I’ll do it. Death threats, shovel talks…”

Suzaku gave him a wry smile. “That won’t help you if you like her.”

“Yeah, but she still needs time to get to know me, anyway. And you’re doing me a favor too, looking out for Euphie. Don’t forget that. I’m willing to play errand boy for now. Anything you need me to pass along?”

The Japanese boy hesitated, but then shook his head. “Just the usual.”

Gino tried to give an encouraging smile, “I’ll make it extra special!”

But Suzaku was already gone.

Euphemia wandered onto the screen a minute later, clearly having been giving Suzaku some time and privacy to talk. She looked— good. Smiling and with some color on her cheeks. Better than she had the previous days, less tired, which Gino attested to Princess Cornelia’s presence.

“Euphie,” Gino greeted her, tone softening with a more genuine smile. As much as he really liked Suzaku and thought the other boy an aspiration to all knights of honor, seeing his princess was always a balm to his heart. “You look better today.”

Euphemia gave a quiet laugh, properly hidden behind a hand demurely with some color rising to her cheeks in a wonderful, relieving display of health.

“Nellie’s been working the scientists hard.” She informed him, “So you have her to thank. I didn’t have to do anything more today than give some blood!”

She shouldn’t even have to do so much in the first place, much less than gamut of tests that eager doctors threw her through on a daily basis like watching a hamster on a wheel, but Euphemia had never been the type to sit back when she could contribute, and her resistance toward the Blight was so incredibly strong that it went out of its way to avoid her.

“That’s good,” Gino told her, “they shouldn’t push you so hard.”

Euphie only laughed through the video call, “Nellie says the same, but how far would we actually get if they didn’t push? All of this will add up to something, I believe it. But tell me about you. Tell me about your day, because it has to be more exciting than mine!”

Gino smiled. “...I met Prince Lelouch’s new knight.”

Her eyes widened, and she darted to look around the screen, likely making sure Suzaku was out of earshot, before she leaned in, “Who is it?”

“Her name is Karen— Kallen? She’s…” he breathed out a loud breath, hand going to rub at the back of his neck as he grinned, “impressive. The calm and collected type, you know? Just charged head first into her first battle, too, no real weapons, just tried to grab the Spectres and wring their necks or something.”

He laughed at the memory, “I don’t know what she was trying to do, but she’s the perfect pilot for the Guren. A real spitfire, I can tell.”

“And you think she’s going to be a good knight?” Euphie asked carefully.

“I think she can be,” Gino confirmed, “if Prince Lelouch will just give her a chance.”

At the comment, Euphie seemed to wilt a bit. “...He’s not? But didn’t he choose her?”

“...I think he finally just gave in to everyone telling him he needs a knight looking after him,” Gino admitted, lowering his hand, “and he just picked the first person who seemed suitable. Or maybe he looked into her more. She seems to be more than what she looks, anyway. Pretty, though. Sharp. Dangerous. She’ll fit in just fine.”

“Good,” Euphemia said, genuinely looking relieved. “Suzaku’s doing better too, I think. Less doctor visits. He’s— recovering.”

“Is he looking after you?” Gino asked, and Euphie smiled a little bitterly.

“He’s doing his job,” she said, and shrugged uncomfortably. “He’s there when I need him, and he’s— well, you know Suzaku. He’s the perfect knight, if you let him. Like a shadow. Makes sure I eat, sleep, keep hydrated… that I don’t wear myself out too much. Textbook perfect.”

“Sounds exhausting,” Gino said. _He_ couldn’t keep up with himself half the time, although it was certainly easier to trick his mind into keeping track of things in order to take care of Euphie.

Euphie nodded, and looked down, “...he won’t call me by name anymore. Just— Princess. Or Your Highness. It’s like we’re strangers sometimes. I practically grew up with him, and he’s…” She breathed out a sigh. “...I’ll get used to it. I’m sure he will, too.”

“They’ll both get used to it,” Gino assured her, because he knew some of it was about how Lelouch hadn’t called her, either. The prince had sent her a very formal letter of gratitude for saving Suzaku’s life, proper and curt, and nothing like the mischievous and teasing older brother that Euphie was used to. “They just need time.”

“I know,” Euphie said, and smiled again. “Tell me about this Kallen. ‘Pretty’, huh? I do know you like the dangerous type.”

Gino laughed along with her, and relaxed into his chair as he spun a dramatic and poetic tale of the redhead who dropped in from the sky during a Blight Storm and within the hour was out in the field moving her new Knightmare with such grace and skill that Gino had been beyond impressed.

—

Even during apocalyptic times, when the majority of the world is in chaos and people were struggling to survive against an unknown entity seeking to destroy them, there were… insurgents. Trouble-makers. Rebels.

Or perhaps it was especially because of this time that they could crawl out of the waterways and rise up, attempting to lay claim to their own little town or duchy, thinking the cover of the Blight could serve in their advantage.

It does not, of course. Britannia did not take well to those who thought they could stand up against the might of the Empire, and knights are dispatched to quell the revolts.

Due to the recent depletion in fighters, Knights of Honors as well.

“It’s fine,” Euphemia told him over video call, although her eyes were worried, “just… stay safe.”

The orders came down from Sir Bismarck Waldstein, the Knight of One, and the only knight whose authority exceeded even that of the princes and princesses. The Emperor himself hadn’t been seen much since the Ragnarok Connection, which was what the Britannian papers dubbed it, although as he hadn’t been seen much before it either, this was no great change. He was alive and well, and that was all that the Empire needed to know, with its reigns mostly hung over Prince Schneizel’s arm.

Gino’s orders had been for a small province in Area 24, to team up with a small group there and reclaim a city not from the Blight Spectres, but from ordinary— people. Terrorists. Normally, orders like that would have been beneath him, as a Knight of Honor, since his primary objective was to serve and protect his charge and not to leave her side. Yet as it was, the knights of low-target princes and princesses were being sent out first.

Reclaim the territory, Sir Waldstein’s orders stated explicitly, and show them the wrath incurred of Britannia.

Gino thought that was a bit much. People were people, regardless of what horrific circumstances they were put through, and that ideology hadn’t changed in his mind from his experiences with Princess Euphemia, and with Prince Lelouch’s Black Knights. People were just people, and he thought they all deserved to be treated with a semblance of respect and dignity. Rebellions existed for a reason, after all, and even if it was an inconvenience to the Empire, it wasn’t as if any small group could actually bring them down.

It was far more likely, Gino had learned the past several months, that people rebelled because they were denied something they needed— food. Shelter. Basic dignity, even. Rebellions over frivolous matters tended to fizzle out quite quickly without making much of a ruckus.

Kallen had been sent out as well, although not to Area 24, and from the twist of her mouth as she got her orders, it was nothing something she appreciated after weeks of attempted to integrate herself with the Black Knights. So had Suzaku, and Gino had his fingers crossed that maybe he might end up with the other knight, and then he’d be able to properly interrogate the Japanese boy about Euphie’s well-being.

...He had his priorities in line.

Instead, Gino Weinberg found himself not teamed up with the knights he had grown accustomed to, but another familiar face altogether.

“Anya,” he breathed out, eyes wide as he saw the small girl hoisting a rifle that was almost as big as herself, clad in a customized version of the black and white Knight of Rounds uniform, her wavy pink hair up in a ponytail and out of the way. She had a bandage wrapped around the top of her left arm, partially covering the red Knight of Rounds tattoo inked on her skin.

“Sir Weinberg,” she greeted in her usual sleepy monotone, “you’re just on time.”

She didn’t offer more of a greeting, instead turning on her heel and marching off, expecting him to follow. Despite his much taller stature, somehow Gino found himself hard-pressed to keep up, his surprise dulling eventually over the uniform. Of course he knew that Anya had been scouted by the Knights of Rounds, and that she would be a terrific fit with them. The best knights in the Empire, the Emperor’s personal knights, but… what did it mean that a Knight of Rounds was out here, in the middle of nowhere?

“Congratulations,” he told her belatedly, attempting to keep his tone light, “it’s been… a year? The uniform suits you.”

His own was a mixture of the normal white and gold Knight of Honor uniform, with some black and silver patches from serving with the Black Knights. It turned his uniform quite monochrome, a bit like the Knights of Rounds, but a bit nothing like that at all.

“Noted,” she told him, eyes still focused up front. It was strange to think she was the same age as Princess Nunnally, whom still smiled and laughed freely if nothing else, even with her recent— situational changes.

“Are you in charge of this operation?” He asked, luckily used to her brusque tone from school.

“Yes,” she said, as they approached a large tent that looked like the base of operations there. Anya Alstreim had grown taller since they parted originally, although not by much, and Gino’s growth seemed to have outpaced her to the point where the top of her head barely reached his chest.

There were several officers in uniform within the tent, which was bare of most things except for a makeshift table in the middle housing a holographic screen that projected the three-dimensional map of the surrounding areas. The soldiers (not knights) looked up as they arrived, saluting briefly to Anya, who didn’t seem to pay them any mind.

“It’s a two-man operation,” she explained to Gino as they got to the map, and the officers cleared a space for them as she pointed to certain sections of the city, “go in with our Knightmares, wipe out the opposition, search the rubble for their originals plans. One person can do it, but the new policy is that we work in pairs.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Gino insisted, bringing his hands up to motion for moment for him to think. “Just… go in and wipe them out? Isn’t that a bit harsh? Shouldn’t we listen to their demands, or figure out what’s going on here?”

“Why?” she asked, pink eyes blank.

“Because,” Gino struggled a moment with an explanation, “why send highly qualified knights if they could just bomb a location and stop the terrorists? Why pull us away at all, if they don’t need a bit of delicacy that we’ve been trained for?”

Anya stared at him a moment, and then turned to the other officers in the tent, jerking her chin towards the tent flap. They bowed slightly, and moved to exit, leaving the two of them alone in the strangely blank command tent.

She tapped a section of the map, expanding it to reveal a series of dots hidden under several buildings, indicating lifesigns.

“They need loyal knights,” Anya told him, “experienced in KMF fighting. Both those things are important.”

“Why, if you’re just going to go in and slaughter everyone,” Gino asked, surprised at his own bitterness. Euphemia would have disapproved. Nunnally would have disapproved. Hell, even Cornelia and Lelouch would have disapproved, although Princess Cornelia likely because she wanted to capture and interrogate the terrorists, and Prince Lelouch because those were the type of people he recruited into the Black Knights. Those who would stand up against the might of the Empire to fight for what they wanted.

Anya tapped on the map again, and this time it zoomed into a specific building in particular, some parts fuzzed out on the holographic map and suspiciously blank.

“Because,” she said, “the enemy has found a way to pilot their own Knightmares.”

—

The Tristen and Mordred were launched that very evening, after two hours of familiarizing themselves with the terrain, the pitfalls surrounding the area, and thanks to Prince Lelouch’s strategies, Gino also pulled up weather schematics and land erosure, too accustomed to preparing himself for just about anything being used against him. They noted what areas in the city could be turned into traps, the layout of streets and the remaining buildings.

They also attempted to contact the leader of the terrorists, although their calls weren’t answered.

“It’s time,” Anya told him after Gino’s failed attempts, having already changed into her flight suit, that large rifle still slung over her shoulder. “We can’t let the Empire’s weapons remain into enemy hands.”

“I know,” Gino said despairingly, because he wanted to know _how_ but Anya was right. If other people got their hands on Knightmare Frame technology, then wars would escalate. The reason most of the opposition were so easily suppressed was because of Britannia’s royal family and their connection to Knightmares. If both sides held the same technology and weapons of war, then battles would involve a lot more blood and death.

Maybe it was unfair for only Britannia to have access to such weapons of war, but at least it meant that the opposition was easily put down and less civilian lives were lost.

“Has anyone checked the Blight contamination levels in the city?” Gino asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Anya told him as they made their way toward the hanger, “we’re knights. We’re unaffected by the Blight.”

The terrorists, Anya had explained, managed to hijack a shipment of Sutherlands passing through the area, usually lightly guarded because while Knightmare parts have ended up on the black market before, the threat of anyone utilizing the whole Frame had been… nil, before this.

Because of that, both the Tristen and Mordred were met with an opposition of nearly two dozen Sutherlands as they entered the dilapidated city.

“They really have figured it out,” Gino said numbly as he twisted the Tristen around to avoid weapons fire as nearly a dozen Sutherlands chased after his Frame, shooting with intent to kill.

“Take them out, Sir Weinberg,” Anya told him impassively as she fired her Hadron canons towards a group, the resulting explosion like a boiling molten lava of flames. Heat was a weapon utilized more frequently after the Ragnarok Connection, and Anya fired without remorse, letting the overwhelming firepower contained in her prototype Frame prove her strength for her.

Gino was a little more skeptical, instead switching to plane mode and flying straight up in the sky, weaving between bullets and missiles, even as he flicked on an open comms to demand, “Who are you people? What do you want?”

Terrorists meant they had demands, and they had _answers_. Whoever was piloting the Sutherlands were average pilots at best, something that Gino was altogether too willing to take advantage of to buy some time and hopefully get the answers he wanted.

Like before, there were no answers, and Gino grit his teeth as he twisted the Tristen between buildings to avoid more weapons fire, only to have it all suddenly stop minutes later as Anya managed to target all the remaining Sutherlands before Gino could get the answers he wanted.

“There’s nothing they can tell you,” Anya told him over comms, voice calm even as Gino ground his teeth in frustration at the lack of response, finally landing his Knightmare without a single kill under his belt. A year ago, he would be have disappointed by his own score, perhaps laugh about how Anya hogged all the killshots, but now he couldn’t help but think that Princess Euphemia would approve of his lack of kills. She’s be relieved, and that was the thought Gino held on to.

They made their way deeper into the city, taking out the occasional Knightmare attempting to set a trap for them, and Anya was right again— had it been people other than Knights of Honor and Knights of the Rounds, it might have been problematic. Other knights were unused to fighting against other Knightmare Frames, their enemies usually shielded in technology that imitated KMFs, but could never exactly copy the exact and fluid movements.

Anya took out the Knightmares without comment on Gino’s participation, although she did remind him from time to time to stop trying to communicate with the terrorists.

Eventually they entered the main hanger, emptied out, and Anya opened the hatch of the Mordred and climbed out, waving for Gino to join her. He did so slowly, careful to slip his Knightmare key around his neck like a necklace before he closed the hatch behind him. Prototypes were rarer and could hardly be stolen by the average knight, but KMFs were supposed to only be piloted by loyal knights, and yet…

The gun holster on his belt felt heavy as they walked down the dark hallways of what must have once been an office building, successful if the wide walkways were any indication. Anya was examining something on a device strapped to her wrist, and she nodded to herself after a moment, adjusting her rifle.

“This way,” she said, and led them towards the stairs, leading down.

It was eerily silent as they went, with some parts of the building darkened with black stains that Gino was careful to navigate around, familiar with the blemishes that the Blight left behind. Whoever was hiding might have been using the contaminated building to discourage people from coming in. They made their way down three flights of stairs before Anya pushed the door to get back into the hallways, unaffected by the darkened walls all around them.

“What is this place?” Gino asked quietly, but she didn’t give an answer.

“You can stay here,” she said, bracing her rifle against the dip of her shoulder, although it wasn’t aimed at anything, the muzzle pointed to the ground, “and help me gather the files later.”

She might not have remarked at his lack of kills earlier, but the comment now still stung.

“No,” he told her, finally pulling his gun from his holster, the weight of it immense in his hands. He mustered up a grin for her, reminiscent of the simulations they ran together back at the Academy. “I’ll be back-up for you. Like you said— we’re supposed to pair up, right?”

She gave him a dubious stare, but didn’t question the words as they continued down the hallway, black tendrils of Blight spread across the walls and floors with the only light source the moon outside broken windows and the light that Anya had attached to the scope of her rifle, bright enough for them to see clearly, but still not illuminating enough to put Gino’s mind at ease, eyes darting to corners where anything might jump out at them.

They might be immune to the Blight, but they weren’t immune to bullets or blunt objects to their skulls.

It didn’t take long for them to hear raised voice, and see a light shining through underneath a door. Anya indicated, and Gino took position next to the door frame with a nod, one hand on the knob to test whether it was locked while the other flicked the safety off his gun.

Anya crouched low to the ground, with her rifle balanced carefully, one hand on the trigger while the other raised to countdown from three. As the last finger dropped, Gino turned the knob carefully, opening the door slowly rather than kicking the frame in dramatically, and Anya made her way into the room immediately to scout for threats. Gino followed close behind, crouched down as well, although it was harder to hide his much taller frame.

“—said it would hold! We have to finish building a defensive wall before—”

Anya took aim, and shot the person speaking, their silhouette outlined by the glow of monitors that seemed to be linked to multiple cameras set up throughout the city. The figure, a tall woman with grey hair in a severe bun, dropped immediately, blood splattered over the walls from the shot clean through her head. The man she was speaking to yelped and raised his hands in surrender, featured obscured in the darkness.

“Wait,” Gino called out quietly to Anya, who already had her aim on the man, finger on the trigger.

“I demand you put down your weapons!” The scared man was shouting, “by order of Third Prince Clovis la Britannia, you will put down your weapons now!”

“Third Prince Clovis is dead,” Gino told him, one hand pushing Anya’s rifle off kilt and the other with his gun pointed at the man himself. Out of everyone so far, this man seemed the most likely to give him answers. Gino spent months memorizing all the names of the royal family and significant persons attached to those names; he could call this bluff easily. “Almost two years now, so you’ll have to pick someone other than that.”

The figure paused, hands still up and features still obscured in shadows. “You’re… you’re a Knight of Honor.”

“Gino,” Anya hissed, foregoing titles as Gino stood up to put himself more in plain view, hoping to coax information out of the man. It was a dangerous move if there were others hiding in the room somewhere, but even in the dark it looked empty. He kept his gun aimed at the man.

“Yes, I am.” He confirmed, not feeling the need to detail whose knight he was. Anya made a noise of discontent, although she stayed where she was, low to the ground and aimed up at the man as well.

“You need to take me to Pendragon,” the man blabbered, hands still raised. “I’m not lying! The Sutherlands are proof— those men out there swore loyalty to me, and they— I’m a _Liedmeister!_ I can prove it, I can prove who I am—”

He cut off abruptly, stepping a step back in fright.

“You’re— you’re one of the Black Knights,” the man blustered, seeming to now take in the small details added to Gino’s uniform, the sleek black and silver patches and the sharp symbol of the Black Knights pinned to the arm of his outfit, usually to provide a sense of calm when he worked alongside them to rescue civilians. “But you’re not Kururugi— who _are_ you?”

The slight movement, the tilt of his head to look more closely at Gino, finally brought the man’s features into the dim lighting of the splattered monitors, and he looked nothing like the Third Prince of the Empire, eyes wide with fear. What stood out, though, was the black veins underneath pale skin, easily visible even in the barely there light, dominating one side of the face where the sclera of one eye was red with burst blood vessels.

While it wasn’t a complete secret anymore that Prince Lelouch was actually the leader of the Black Knights, or that Suzaku was his Knight of Honor, it was still unusual for someone to associate Knight of Honor and Black Knights to Sir Kururugi. If nothing else, this man certainly knew things that he wasn’t supposed to know, and Gino lowered his gun a bit.

“Did Lelouch send you?” The man asked fearfully, taking another step back and inadvertently putting himself in a little more light to reveal that the black veins on his face wasn’t just restricted to the face, the mess of black under skin growing as it went down his body, not entirely concealed under skin as it seemed to morph his shape slightly, one arm larger than the other, skin black and shining, textured like thick bark and vines underneath his clothing. Even Gino couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath as he saw black tendrils of Blight lift from the man’s neck in his agitation, slight but dangerous. “Does he know? This is his fault! It’s his fault I’m like this, it’s his fault this happened—!”

In that moment, Anya fired, aiming straight between the eyes. The man claiming to be Prince Clovis dropped as easily as the woman earlier, and Anya cocked her rifle again, her movements smooth as the shells of her previous bullets fell and hit the carpet beneath them.

Gino let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, eyes still glued to the terrible and misshapen figure on the ground.

“We need to burn him,” Anya said suddenly as she stood, her posture graceful and straight, stepping over the room to nudge the corpse with the end of her rifle briefly as she frowned. “He’s contaminated. He’ll rise again soon if we don’t get rid of his corpse.”

“How could he be speaking with us if he’s contaminated?” Gino asked in a daze. Those infected with the Blight retained their thoughts for only a brief period of time until the infection took over completely, and then they were— animalistic. Feral. He had never seen such a progression of the Blight where the host retained conscious thought. And then he shook his head. “We can’t burn him. He might have the answers we need.”

As to how there were others piloting Knightmares. It was a fantastical thought to think that this might actually be Third Prince Clovis, yet somehow the claims added up easily. It didn’t make sense, though, seeing as the prince had been dead two years already— long before Ragnarok.

“It doesn’t matter,” Anya said. “He’s lying. Whatever he tells us will be lies.”

There was something off about her tone, and Gino turned careful attention to her, to watch her frowning down at the man’s corpse. Her eyes were narrowed in the dim lighting, and her stance was… sharp. Somehow different than Anya’s usual lazy demeanor, as if she was standing taller than her own height.

“Anya?” Gino asked carefully.

She turned her head toward him, and for a moment it looked like her scleras were black, before he blinked and the image disappeared, revealing her normal scowling features.

“Help me gather evidence,” she told him, “and burn the body. The mission’s been accomplished today.

You’ll get to go home after this.”

There was something about her tone…

“And Sir Weinberg,” Anya added, her grip on her rifle deceptively lose as she smiled at him, and he shuddered. He couldn’t recall Anya ever smiling like that before. “Not a word of this to anyone, especially not Prince Lelouch. This mission is classified, under the authority of the Emperor. Do you understand?”

There was a warning prickle on the back of his neck, and Gino grinned back, hoping it didn’t look too false or alarmed.

“Of course.” He agreed carefully, attention now caught on the white bandage around her arm, partially covering the black tattoo of the Knight of Rounds. “The Emperor’s authority is absolute.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to note that Cornelia's second instrument, shown in a scene in part one of Gino's chapter, is a handpan, and [it's a gorgeous thing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6oremFnbgO0), in case people have never heard one before.  
> C.C.'s chapter will definitely be out before the end of the month.


	5. Strike a Match

(“Is there even a difference between music and silence?” V.V. asked her.)

The only indulgence C.C. asks for while travelling with the Black Knights as the shadow besides Zero, the unknown Grey Witch, is for her room to be assembled a certain way. 

“An anechoic chamber?” Lelouch asked her as he read through her demand, amused. He is fourteen and still small for his age, but already with a darkness behind his eyes that was gathering with every battle fought. C.C. waited patiently for him to finish his report, lips quirked upward in amusement at a child-commander whose military uniform was tailor-fit to him, just as the boy besides him, hands clasped behind his back and standing bow straight. 

He barely reaches her shoulder in height, while C.C. feels so much older than him that she shouldn’t be bothering to look in his direction, but she indulges him with an answer anyway. “Yes.”

“Is that really necessary?” He asked, but then seemed to think better of it. “So be it, then. I’m sure I can budget it in the accounts.”

He didn’t understand yet, of course he didn’t, but C.C. would give him a handful of years before he was screaming out the noise in his head in a room no one could hear into. A few more years, and he would understand. 

Until then, C.C. just gave a wry smile and thanked the prince for his generosity. 

— 

She doesn’t remember her own childhood. A blessing, that. Her memories come and go, fade where they willed, and wore itself into the tapestry of her world, evoking old feelings of nostalgia and sadness in the sound of rain against glass panes, in the smell of a summer storm, and the reflection of fire against a water’s surface. 

It is human to forget, and that is the only blessing she has left in a life filled with pain, and the lack thereof.

Sometimes she thinks she had a happy childhood. Sometimes she thinks she had a sad one. Her life pieces itself around her like the sound of a mechanical clock, gears shifting with each second, producing the sounds that map out an eternity— but the same sounds for every hour. For every day. For every year. 

She is adrift. 

— 

Once, more than once, a man told her he loved her. 

They did that. Men, of all eras and of all ages. Men would praise her youth and her beauty, trailing fingers through her bright hair and marvelling at her clear skin. Some wrote sonnets to her, and C.C. always found that flattering. 

She was never too flattered by what came next. 

Not that it stopped her from being fooled: more than once, a man declared his love for her, devoted himself to her, and she thought herself in love. This is the one, she would think, this is the time. I will stay with him for as long as he lives, and I will treasure these memories for eternity. 

Those would be good years, filled with something more than just the lack of pain. Years when she dared herself to hope, even just a little, to find happiness within the confines of her curse. 

“You’re so beautiful,” they would always tell her, worshipful, eyes bright with wonder, “you’re always so beautiful.”

C.C. used to let herself be fooled, naive as she was. Handfuls of years would pass, and her paramours would grow delighted by her youth and her beauty, untouched by the sands of time. 

“How lucky am I,” she would hear, the words accompanied by a soft sight, “to have caught the attention of an immortal angel.”

But then decades would pass, and soon enough she would be the fresh-faced youth standing next to a middle aged love, and soon enough the rumors and the doubts would start. It didn’t matter what she did, how true she was, or how strong her hope for a single human lifetime filled with one great love— it would always fall apart. 

She had a favorite, although she could not remember his name. He loved her all the way up until he was nearly fifty, before the first time he strangled her to death, his thoughts of her turned from beautiful angel to devilish temptress. She stayed with him regardless, after she awoke again, because she fancied them in love, and that one death in her immortal life was nothing compared to the decades they spent together. 

She learned better afterward. 

The more he watched her revive, the madder he became, unable to stay in that same frozen moment with her, until he blamed her for every misfortune that befell them, every bad decision in his life. 

“You are a temptress sent by the devil to lure my soul,” he told her one day, madness in his gaze, as the home they built together burned around them. He was brandishing an axe that day, C.C. recalled. “And I have given you too many of my years— now I will repent and take it all back!”

When she awoke again after that, nearly a week had passed, unlike her usual minutes, because this time she had to regenerate nearly the entirety of her body after he chopped her to pieces and buried her in different sections of the forest. 

She stopped trusting men to love her after that. 

“You’re so silly,” a woman with copper colored hair whispered into her ear after that, her every breath filled with laughter as hands stroked up her naked flank, “of course you shouldn’t trust men when it comes to love. They don’t understand us… how could they?”

The next morning, that woman was gone, having left with all of C.C.’s belongings, including her clothes. 

Those were her fonder memories. 

She doesn’t recall how many times she’d been sent to the pyre to burn. How many times an axe met the back of her neck. How many poisons she spat out along with the half digested pulp of her internal organs. She had been shoved off cliffs, drowned, beaten to death, skewered, and on one occasion, cooked and eaten. 

Those were the moments of pain. 

C.C. thinks that it is during that time, those hundreds of years, she made herself forget who she might have been once upon a time. She was adrift, and lived for the moments of numbness when she wasn’t filled with pain. 

Then one day she opened her eyes, and the world around her was shattered. 

— 

Marianne was not a beautiful child. 

When they first met, she was scuffed and dirty, hair short and choppy, with a gap smile and bruises all along her arms and legs. Perhaps more where C.C. couldn’t see. 

She was not a beautiful child, but her eyes were nearly as bright as a Songstress’s. 

“I want to learn how to Sing,” the child told her, “and I’ve been told that you’re the one to teach me.”

“Go away,” C.C. told her, “you’ll never learn how to Sing.”

(Marianne did not go away.)

— 

She found V.V. in the midst of rubble and ruin, a child surprisingly clean in the middle of what would soon be a wasteland. 

He had white-blond hair, and was barely tall enough to hit her ribs. A true child in every sense of the word, except for his eyes, a near glowing pinkish-purple that made her think of diluted blood for some reason. 

“How are you alive?” He demanded when he first met her, haughty and scared. 

“What did you do?” She asked in return. 

The blond child, so clean in a world of darkness, who couldn’t have been older than ten summers if that, turned away from her. 

“I killed them all.” He said after a few minutes. “Everyone. Everything. In this entire world, I think.”

— 

“How much do you trust me?” C.C. asked Marianne, watching as the woman fretted over her sleeping children, her hands so much softer than they used to be as a child, and even a young adult. C.C. hated watching the children she knew grow up. She hated even more to see them go on with their lives, content, all the while she could only stand from behind a pane of glass and watch. 

“That’s a silly question,” Marianne answered her with a smile, but C.C. knew better than to trust that smile. She was the one who taught the woman that smile. It was an empty smile, and one Marianne learned to wield ruthlessly during times of war, gaining her a bloody reputation as the Emperor’s most devout knight (and assassin) before she became his Empress. Marianne was tall and strong now, beautiful in a way she hadn’t been as a child. Composed. 

In another time, perhaps C.C. would have wheedle her more for assurance. Told her that this was for her sake. Broke it to her gently. 

By this time and age, C.C. didn’t care that much about humanity anymore. She would only give this warning, she reasoned to herself, because Marianne was her friend and she deserved to know the danger. 

“If you want your son to survive,” the immortal witch said, “then you will not tell your husband and Emperor of what transpired today. Kill all the witnesses, and make it so that this day is forgotten in obscurity.”

Marianne paused in her motions, and turned a cold gaze her way. 

“You’re speaking of treason.”

C.C. only gave a cursory look towards the children tucked into the daybed, a boy and a girl, wrapped tightly around each other and deeply asleep. 

“Kill all your guards.” C.C. told her. “Say there was an accident. Send for a new batch.”

“And is there a reason for this unnecessary loss of human life?” Marianne asked her curiously. 

“I never took you to be squeamish. Surely you’ve killed more people before in a span of ten minutes than all the guards on your estate.”

“Yes. While following orders. I am but a knight, after all.”

“Are you a knight?” C.C. asked her. “Or are you a mother?”

— 

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, C.C. fell in love with a king. A jolly man, who knew little of statecraft but much of both warfare and laughter, in turns heading off to war and in turns celebrating life in his little kingdom. She would sing and dance for the king, and the king in turn offered her everything he had. 

“I want but one lifetime,” she said to him, “not your gold or your riches or your kingdom. Just your promise to spend one lifetime with me and love me.”

“For one lifetime,” he promised her, “for my lifetime. You shall be my queen.”

But she declined the offer, because at that point, she knew better than to accept a role in history. She would roam the land even after his death, and her depiction was not one she wanted recorded down. It was perhaps the happiest of her lifetimes, even if that promise was not fulfilled and that time did not last. A thousand years later, she would remember little of that jolly man except that he was the only one who truly tried to fulfill his promise to her, even if they only had three years together before he was felled in battle. 

As she left to kingdom to never return, C.C. thought that would be the last time she allowed herself to truly love someone and be loved like that in return. Two eras of the world’s turning, and she was finally done looking for love.

— 

“What are you?” She asked, “Ten summers?”

“What’s it to you?” V.V. sneered at her, remaining standing even as C.C. sat on the ground to tend to the fire she started. “You can’t be more than sixteen yourself.”

“I’m older than the world you know, little boy,” C.C. told him wryly. 

When C.C. originally wished for a companion to spend eternity with, she would never have described one such as V.V. 

“You’re trying to tell me,” he said, loud and obnoxious, “that you’ve been alive for as long as this world’s been around, but you never tried to figure out _why_?”

“You should never meddle in affairs beyond you,” she told him, “look what you’ve already done.”

He only grinned, spreading his arms out wide. “Yeah! I destroyed the world! The _whole world_! All the thieving bastards, all the lying whores… Every fucker out there who ever hurt me, or any other kid! I took them all out… and it wasn’t even hard!”

“You also murdered every sweet woman and child, destroyed the future of every kind soul.” She told him, throwing a stick into the fire. “I’d say you’re far more a monster than anyone you’d describe.”

He pointed a finger at her. 

“If I could, I’d destroy you, too!”

C.C. threw another stick into the fire and said, “You’re welcome to try.”

— 

It was almost amusing to watch V.V. change his attitude as the centuries passed by. At first, she wanted nothing to do with him. And then, he wanted nothing to do with her. Sometimes they travelled together, but most of the time they lived their lives separately, V.V. enjoying strutting around in budding civilizations that thought him some sort of God, while C.C. tried her best to stay away from people. 

“Why don’t you want them worshipping you?” He asked once, when she checked in on him, some distant and withered part of her mind still showing concern over abandoning a ten year old boy, even if he was now the age of an impossibly old man and still as obnoxious as ever. “You’re weird.”

“You’ll see.” She told him, and left after making sure he was still alive and kicking (not that either of them could die now, not with the weight of their debt to the world). 

The next time, nearly twenty years later, it was V.V. who hunted her down, the heavy gold that once adorned his neck and hands now gone. 

“...I miss my brother.” He admitted, although she hadn’t asked. “I had a twin brother. I did all of this for him. I.... I can’t even remember his name anymore.”

C.C. couldn’t meet his eyes. “Human beings aren’t meant to recall more than one lifetime of memories.”

V.V. was quiet. 

“Are we even human anymore?”

— 

The first time humanity discovered steam technology, and fit gears together to tell time, C.C. was fascinated. She fell in love with a clockmaker in that era, who one was already old with white hair and withered hands, who smiled at her and told her that she reminded him of his daughter who had long passed away from a plague. 

“You are much too young for me,” he would let her down gently every time she professed her love for him, and C.C. would laugh in a manner she hadn’t in many lifetimes. 

“I’m far older than you think,” she would tease back, and then Sing for him to watch the joy light up his face. 

C.C. danced in a little clock shop in the middle of a big city, her skirts lifting around her as she twirled and Sang, summoning little glowing lights that pulsed with each click of a clock gear. 

It was all worth it even when the police came to arrest her for witchcraft mere days after the clockmaker’s death, and C.C. accepted the rope around her neck that time with a smile. 

— 

Marianne carried Lelouch and Nunnally out into the gardens where C.C. waited; one arm carrying her son, and the other carrying her daughter. 

Nunnally, just a baby, made discontented noises when Marianne set Lelouch down into the soft patio chair, where his attention was immediately taken by the stone and marble chess board before him, rather than on the stranger with her bright green hair sitting across from him. 

After several seconds of fussing, the sounds only increasing exponentially, Marianne finally sighed and handed off her baby daughter to her son, who accepted the little girl on his lap with all the grace and seriousness of someone far older than he looked. 

“Fine, then,” Marianne said, tone fond, “make sure to look after Nunnally, Lelouch.”

“I will,” he promised, as the baby grabbed a fistful of his collar, buried her face happily against his neck, and then gave a happy babble and closed her eyes immediately. 

Marianne left, and C.C. wasted no time in picking up a white chess piece, telling him, “We’re going to play a game, Lelouch. I’ve been told you know how to play chess. How old are you?”

He didn’t answer her, one hand holding on to his drooling baby sister, and the other holding up four fingers, curiously with his pinky down. 

Something about his eyes somehow reminded C.C. of a little clock shop in a big city, and she chuckled. 

“Who are you?” He asked her, “Why did mother leave us with you?”

C.C. set the white pawn down two spaces in front of the starting position in a classical Queen’s Pawn Opening, and told him, “Win this match against me, and I’ll tell you.”

(To her very great surprise, he did.)

— 

C.C. found a gypsy girl with hair the color of fire, and skin freckled and brown, who danced like the would was alit and sang like the whole world was singing with her. 

“I wish I could sing like the royal family,” the girl confessed to her, the two of them lying entwined in the grass, breath wispy smokes of white in the cold air with only the stars to shine down on them. “I wouldn’t use it for war. I would— go around and end droughts in villages. I’d power windmills. Loosen the earth for planting.”

“What if your song was Fire?” C.C. asked her. 

“That’s easy,” the girl giggled, dark skin beautiful against C.C.’s. “I would use it on nights like this, and bring such a bonfire that I could warm whole groups of people. Can you imagine?”

C.C. closed her eyes, ignoring the songs trapped behind her teeth, and said, “No, I guess I can’t.”

Three years later, the girl— now a young woman, smiled at her sadly as the two of them were tied to poles, their crime being their mere existence. 

“I can wish for nothing more,” the girl with hair the color of fire and skin dark as earth after the rain, told her lovingly, “than to die with you.”

“I’m sorry,” C.C. told her, as the crowds surrounding them, armed with stones, waited with anticipation. She didn’t dare speak of love, nor of death and pain. This moment, she thought, and these warm, glowing memories… would give her many years of pain yet. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again when she awoke, clawing her way out of the dirt and choking on mud in the summer storm, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… 

“I can’t die with you. Or with anyone.”

— 

“What do you want?” Karen Stadtfeld— no, Kozuki Kallen, snapped at her warily. 

C.C. meant to evaluate Lelouch’s newest knight, maybe to tease her, or perhaps just to gload her, but one look at her bright red hair, straight now that it was dripping wet, and C.C. turned on her heel and left the room instead, leaving the girl to gape at her. 

— 

“You’ll have to do everything I say,” C.C. told Marianne, an echo of what was said the woman was but a small child, still graceless and ungainly, but determined to prove herself. 

“You’re asking me to give up his right of succession,” Marianne hissed at her lowly, not wanting to wake her children up. “He’s— he has a chance! He’s already smarter than most of the other children, even those ten years older than him, and all he needs is to prove himself as a _Liedmeister_ —” 

“V.V. would never allow it,” C.C. said. “Not ever.”

She looked down at the sleeping children, young and innocent, unknowing of the darkness their future would bring. 

“The Song of Destruction has been lost for an age.” She told Marianne. “For a very good reason.”

C.C. herself was physically sixteen, and far too young for her eternity. V.V. was physically ten, and she thinks that a part of his current mental instability had to do with his young age. Lelouch, she learned today, was _four_.

She had to swallow the bile in her throat. 

“Are the guards dead?”

“...I killed them myself.” Marianne admitted quietly. “They deserved that much from me.”

“Good.” C.C. said. She let out a breath, and turned to face her friend— the little girl who once came to her for help, and then stayed. “If you want to ensure his survival, you’ll do these things. 

“But first and foremost, you have to make sure he never Sings again.”

—

“How old are you, C.C.?” V.V. asked, “Truly?”

“How old is this world?” C.C. responded airily. 

He snorted in response. “That’s how old _I_ am. But you… you’re far older than me, aren’t you? Older than my world, even.”

She didn’t respond, but it wasn’t like he needed to hear her answer. 

“I think this world is due for a cleansing,” V.V. told her. “That very same cycle of death and rebirth. How old is written history now? Six thousand years? And I don’t remember how long it took for them to get to that.”

C.C. didn’t answer. 

“Of course, I didn’t allow the world to advance anywhere this far last time,” he said, sly. “No automobiles or modern warfare. That’s certainly new. Have you ever been electrocuted to death, C.C.?”

“Are you offering to demonstrate?” She asked, and he laughed at her. 

“It’s a rush,” he told her, grin full of teeth. “But no. No demonstrations, I’m afraid. I’m just curious as to how the world will end this time.”

“That song has been lost to this world,” she said. “I doubt it will happen again.”

“Oh, but the royal family still Sings,” V.V. told her cheerfully. “The world continues in a circle. Things happen the same way, people come and go, and everyone comes back at some point.

“C.C,” he said, still grinning that unnerving grin, “I think I found my brother again. And he can Sing! All you have to do, is help me teach him one specific teensy tiny song, and we can start over again. A third cycle. Charles will be my age soon, and what better gift than immortality?”

“You know better than that,” she said. “If he doesn’t know the song, then he can’t Sing it.”

The world wouldn’t end like V.V. wanted it to, it only because the world seemed to be building up an immunity to singers with each go, breeding less and less of them by the millenia. C.C. almost remembers a time when Singing was the norm, when songs were _learned_ rather than a talent only a few possessed. 

And then she sang the Song of Destruction, and everything changed. 

“You can’t force the end of the world.” She said quietly. “We don’t have that ability anymore.”

— 

C.C. slipped under the covers silently, dragging her bright yellow plush with her and squirming until she felt comfortable, purposely disturbing the mattress more than she had to. 

“Get out, C.C.” Lelouch told her, although he didn’t move from where he was curled up. 

“No,” she told him, and moved so that they were back to back and she could hug onto her plush tightly because she knew he would refuse that comfort. How strange that she held herself at such a distance with Marianne for so long, but couldn’t manage to keep her heart closed to Marianne’s son. 

Perhaps it was the knowledge from the very beginning that he was going to be just like her. 

“I don’t want you here,” he said coldly. “You have your own bed.”

His back was warm, and he hadn’t moved away, which C.C. took as a good sign. 

“Yours is more comfortable,” she told him blithely. “You should move it into my room.”

“I’d rather not.”

She thought about a four year old boy who would sneak glances up at her while moving his chess pieces with still tiny fingers, movements clumsy as he tried to adjust around his sleeping baby sister. She thought of her despair when she confirmed that once again the Song of Destruction was in the world, and that they had come too close to adding another immortal to the list at too young an age. 

She thought of the fourteen year old, so confident in his own abilities, so ignorant to how the world was waiting to swathe him in darkness.

If nothing else, C.C. thought, Lelouch was seventeen now. She managed to get him this far, and she was damned proud of it. 

“I told you not to fall in love, didn’t I?”

“I,” he said through gritted teeth, “am not in love with you.”

“Not with me.” She hugged her plush tighter. “I told you not to fall in love, at all.”

It was hypocritical to say, with her past. It was hypocritical to say, with the fondness she felt for him now. But it was expressly because of that fondness which made C.C. frown in the moments when she saw Lelouch and Suzaku laughing together, ducking behind corners out of sight. 

Not jealousy, she thought. Just… sadness. She didn’t know how to tell him that the love he kept close to his heart would never last. Not even for one singular lifetime, much less the years he would undoubtedly live to. 

C.C. hadn’t broached the topic of immortality with him yet, and the unending curse looming over him the moment that Song resounded through his mind.

“You need to forget that boy,” she told him graciously. 

Lelouch was silent for a long time, almost long enough for her to think he had fallen asleep. 

“...I can’t.”

Of course not, she thought. He had yet to be killed by the one he loved. Again… and again… and again.

“Then,” she said, squirming again, “move your bed into my room. It’s far too loud here.”

— 

“I didn’t expect you to choose mother over knight,” C.C. admitted. 

Marianne was silent for a long moment. 

“I don’t know why I did.”

C.C. only looked away, and then closed her eyes.

— 

“How come you don’t just,” Mao gestured wildly with his hands, his movements sporadic and eager as he made noises for weapons and explosions and likely many other things that C.C. couldn’t identify, “and take over?”

“Use your words,” she told him, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

He seemed to bounce around her, eager for her attention, and C.C. wondered again what prompted her to take in a child when all her previous lifetimes she had spent avoiding children in general. She didn’t want to think it had anything to do with Marianne’s children, and watching them giggle together at each other, sweet and innocent. 

She didn’t want to think that a part of her wondered at the prospect of motherhood, not having expected Marianne to actually take to it. 

She wondered if maybe she could keep this one child, a different love, for just one human lifetime. It was the first time she wanted to try, weighed down by a nagging guilt in the back of her mind.

“I mean,” Mao clarified, tugging at her hand, dark eyes shining bright as she pressed a hand against his unusually white hair, “that you’re so amazing! You can do anything, C.C., I believe it.”

“Thank you,” she told him, awkward but flattered. 

“I love you,” he sighed out to her, and C.C. smiled and echoed the sentiment back at him. 

Years later Mao would grow to be taller than her, and would laugh and laugh as he told her on endless loop that he loved her. When he finally brought an axe into her presence, C.C. shot him through the head.

It was disappointing. 

— 

She had an excellent view of when the panic broke out over the city of Helsinki. Her travel companion this time around had been a large gold labrador, skinny and dirty when it first started following her, until C.C. deigned to feed and bathe it if only because she liked dogs. 

When the dog continued to follow her around for days, she thought maybe she’d bring it with her next time she visited Pendragon and present the loyal canine as a gift to a certain haughty prince and princess. 

Instead, the skies roiled black unexpectedly one warm morning, and then the screaming started. 

C.C. paid it no mind at first, sitting atop the cathedral, until the dog next to her started whimpering and whining while she wondered what was going on and watched shadows of black choke people below her. 

V.V. would have laughed at her apathy. Marianne might have raised an eyebrow. Mao would have followed whatever example she set, and Lelouch— 

Lelouch would have tried to convince her to help those people, and ended up going himself when he couldn’t stand the screaming anymore. 

She petted the dog, trying to calm it down, and listened to the symphony of chaos and turmoil below her, wondering how she ever came into the company of someone so open-hearted as Lelouch, as much as he would try to deny it.

“Maybe,” she told the dog, minutes later, when the fires started to break out, “I’ll go see if there are survivors.”

She didn’t know what killed them, but it wasn’t as if it could harm her for long.

— 

“They figured it out,” V.V. told her with glee as she lounged lazily on the expensive couch in the middle of the room, smearing greasy fingertips down the upholstery as she reached for another slice of pizza: the only reason she bothered to visit nowadays, since V.V. seemed to have gone off the deep end. “The power behind Songs.”

“That’s interesting,” C.C. lied, and tried to stuff as much of the slice of pizza as she could into her mouth so she didn’t have to say anything more. 

“We’re connections,” V.V. didn’t seem to care about her apathy, gesticulating wildly, his movements fervent and tinged with madness. “All those little— lights that are seen, when someone Sings? They’re _spirits_.”

“That’s the belief, yes,” C.C. confirmed around the food in her mouth. 

“The Song of Destruction opens the gate, you see,” he said, completely ignoring her now, as if he hadn’t called her all the way to Pendragon to tell her this, “and people who can sing it are the key. We’ve both sung it. We can open the gate.”

Why would she want to? C.C. had no desire to wreck the world again, even if she still could. 

“When someone Sings,” V.V. was muttering, feverish, “there’s an exchange of energy. In order for the spirits to do something, they require energy from you. Except for the Song of Destruction— because they’re taking energy from the world— and that’s why you get energy from the spirits in return.”

That was certainly a new theory.

“Oh?” She asked, not bothering with politeness or manners as she shoved the rest of the slice in her mouth, speaking with her mouth full. “And what energy do we get in return for destroying the entire world?”

V.V. laughed, the sharp blade of his voice catching her attention. 

“Immortality!”

— 

It made sense for the Song of Healing to have disappeared the same time the Song of Destruction did. 

“Opposites of the same spectrum,” V.V. dismissed with a shrug, but C.C. was old enough to know better. She also wasn’t surprised that someone like him obsessed over the Song of Destruction, but seemed to all but ignore the disappearance of the Song of Healing as well. V.V. never did understand the powers he played with. 

“Destroying things gives the most to you, and healing takes the most away. It makes sense.”

She didn’t correct him, and wasn’t surprised when three years after she first visited Marianne’s children, she was called back again for them. 

“Nunnally won’t wake up,” Marianne informed her in a hushed manner, as the two of them peeked into the little princess’s room, where she lay sleeping on her too large bed, and her brother read her a story by her bedside from a thick and heavy tome. “It’s been nearly two days.”

How quickly things were picking up, after centuries. But C.C. wasn’t surprised. She couldn’t be anymore. 

“Is it…”

“Yes.” C.C. confirmed before Marianne could finish her question. She didn’t take her eyes off the children. “Were there any witnesses this time?”

“None.” Marianne confirmed. “One of my guard was with them, but he reported in to me immediately and has said nothing since regarding the incident, not even when asked about Nunnally’s condition.”

“Name?”

Marianne hesitated, a manner most unlike her, and C.C. turned a curious gaze toward her. 

“...Jeremiah Gottwald.” The woman finally admitted, and there was a manner of resignation in her stance. “He’s a good kid.”

It was like motherhood changed Marianne into someone C.C. couldn’t recognize, softer somehow and filled with more doubts and insecurities than ever. She recalled the little girl who stood at her doorway, demanding to be taught an art she could never learn, and the girl who later decided that the sword suited her better, since it was something she could indeed master. 

C.C. remembered Marianne’s laughter, full of joy, in the midst of battle as she cut the throat of enemy after enemy. Her excitement when presented with her Knightmare Frame, and the speed and grace of her movements in a fight. Marianne the Flash, they called her, when Marianne had been a young teen, blood splattered and gleeful to be picked as one of the Emperor’s personal knights. 

She was still a young woman, but there was something changed in her regardless. 

After a second, Marianne relented and handed C.C. an electronic file, sighing as it showed the image and stats of a young man with hopeful eyes and a kindly demeanor. 

“He’s not that much younger than you,” C.C. observed, making no move to take it. She didn’t care about him. “And you’re sure he’s trustworthy?”

“He’s spoken nothing of the incident to anyone else.” Marianne said. “Only to me.”

“And the incident?”

“Horse riding accident.” Marianne sighed. “I didn’t think you’d want to know the details, C.C.”

“I don’t.” C.C. confirmed, “I wanted to know whether you’d be waiting to overshare, mother that you now are.”

The woman laughed. “I haven’t changed that much.”

Seeing the composed woman now, dark hair falling in long clean waves down her back and clad in a modest brown gown, likely hiding pants and weapons underneath, C.C. did wonder. 

She looked away, somehow a little sad. 

“You once told me you never wanted children.”

Marianne snorted in a very unladylike manner, and pocketed her documents, “Yes, and I once also said that I would crack the secrets of Songs, and that I would manage to kill V.V., didn’t I?”

“A shame you couldn’t,” C.C. said. “Since he’ll be sure to kill you once he realizes what you’ve been hiding from him.”

Marianne only smiled, and said nothing in return.

— 

She used to think that time meant nothing to her. A month, a year, a decade… centuries could pass without C.C. forming any real attachments, any real memories. Her life existed in moments, and passing without much comment from her. From time to time, she would encounter someone she thought she would love, and then within a few centuries, their names would fade from her mind. 

Everything faded, even her own name, and C.C. was adrift.

She does not think she would ever forget Clovis’s name.

Nearly six months. Almost half a year. It was laughable to her how little that time was, in comparison to the rest of her life. She never imagined anyone could imprint on her as fast as Clovis did, with his curious stare and impeccable dress. 

It always stood out to her, because everyone else was always dressed in white. Because the surroundings would always be dressed in blood and pain. 

And Clovis would always be staring, no malice at all even as he ordered his scientists to peel back her skin to see how long it would take for her to heal if her skin was still attached at parts. 

He was always there, unafraid, as he stood with his royal guard and his scientists, sometimes frustrated but sometimes smiling at her. 

“It’s fine, isn’t it?” He asked her once, as if to gauge her consent, even after he cut out her tongue and stuffed her mouth in attempt to keep it from growing back so he couldn’t hear her screams anymore. “It’s not like we can really hurt you.”

She had been alive of eons, gone through stages of love and grief and despair that made her feel little more than a husk of a human before, and had suffered through such unimaginable and unbearable pain that C.C. thought she understood the worst that humanity could offer. 

But six months under the exact microscopes and scalpels of Clovis’s orders taught her an entirely new lesson. 

“It’s amazing, really,” Clovis told her once, all boyish excitement and ill-fitted princely dignity. The floor was wet with her blood, yet somehow his shoes remained as clean and pristine as ever. He had broken every bone in her body that day, and continued to break them as they healed, wanting to see what kind of damage a body could take and how much she must heal before she could be revived. 

She remembered vividly seeing boxes of her organs that they harvested from her, like a gruesome backdrop behind him. 

“You’re a marvel,” he told her eagerly, “we could learn so much from you! Everything about you is a normal human being, but somehow you just don’t stay dead. Even if we can’t learn the secret of immortality through you, think of the people you could save through— blood transfusions! Organ transplants! You’re… you’re physically _perfect_.”

They sealed her in an airtight container while they weren’t using her, dooming her to suffocate to death over and over to ensure there was no chance of her escaping.

C.C. learned a new hate during that time, watching Clovis collect her eyes into jars in fascination. He was always so clean, always so curious and happy. 

When the lid of her container opened again and she gasped her first breath of air for the day, she looked up not to see Clovis’s curious blue eyes but another’s— violet, darkened almost to black in anger, and scowling features on a face still slightly rounded with childhood. 

Lelouch’s clothes and skin were slightly blood-splattered and rumpled, one hand holding up the lid of her container and the other tightly gripping a gun.

“Good.” He said to her then, angry and covered in his brother’s blood. “I found you.”

When he undid her restraints and handed her the gun, all to the cacophony of his knight slaughtering the remainder of Clovis’s royal guard, C.C. understood just why Lelouch’s Black Knights were willing to fight and die for him.

— 

“Of course I’ll kill Marianne,” V.V. confirmed when C.C. went to confront him, although he didn’t look worried over telling her. “Charles will tire of her eventually. For right now, she’s useful.”

Maybe not so useful once he realized she was hiding two rare _Liedmeisters_ from him.

“I’m surprised you’re willing to put up with her even for Charles’s sake,” she said, tone bored.

He only waved her words off. “She’s been a good little test subject with the gates. Now we know there’s no adverse effects on _regular_ people, so they don’t have to be _LIedmeisters_.”

C.C.’s expression was incredulous. “You… sent her through the gate.”

“Have I not told you this before?” V.V. asked innocently, although his smile was anything but. “Shame. Our project would go so much faster with you on board. There’s only so much I can do by myself, even with assistants. Everyone else is so… fragile. You would be able to keep a reign on your precious Marianne, as well.”

C.C.’s smile for him was thin. “I don’t subject myself as a test subject. Ever.”

“But she did.” V.V. told her. “Every six months, for the past… eight years or so? We had to test long term effects beyond the gate, as well.”

Eight years meant before Lelouch and Nunnally were born. Every six months, without V.V. speaking of exceptions, meant C.C. now had a vague idea of just how the Song of Destruction and the Song of Healing manage to come back from beyond the gate after all. 

— 

C.C. didn’t bother visiting Marianne’s corpse. 

She made her way to the royal children instead, wiping the blood off her knife with the inside folds of her skirt, before sheathing it on the holster on her thigh. 

Princess Nunnally was asleep again— for days, they said. Trauma over her mother’s death, they said. 

C.C. wasn’t that stupid. 

“Did anyone else see?” She asked, first thing, as she barged into the children’s rooms, knowing that Lelouch was already awake because he had to watch over his sleeping sister. 

He was still so _small_ , pale and thin with wide violet eyes that were dark with an anger that could barely be contained in the body of a child. 

“No,” he told her from his sister’s bedside, holding her hand, even as his eyes tracked her movements. “Just those three.”

“Good.” C.C. told him, and went to loosen the ties on the curtains, bringing the room into darkness. He didn’t protest. She had been warning him ever since he was four to keep secrets, and she suspected that his mother’s assassination meant that the lesson was now drilled into his head. “What did she do?”

Lelouch looked back down to his sister, the little girl like a ghost lost in the large bed. 

“....She tried to heal mother,” he said quietly. “It didn’t work.”

“It shouldn’t.” C.C. said, curt. “Songs don’t raise the dead.”

She knelt in front of him, bringing herself to eye level with the little boy. 

“I can’t care for you.” She told him bluntly. “With Marianne dead, no one at court can. Not when you are not favored to inherit the throne, and not when your sister is now known for her— lapse. Weakness, they’ll say. The two of you will likely be sent away, somewhere to die quietly where no one has to hear about it.”

“But it’s not _true_.” Lelouch protested, the familiar anger rising in his eyes. “We— both of us— we’re far more qualified than everyone else! I’ve been practicing, I can—” 

“Do _not_ tell me.” C.C. said, reaching to grip his arm tightly, shaking him. There were times when she hated children, and how they just wouldn’t listen. But these were Marianne’s children, and she had to make an exception, or else they would never make it to adulthood. “Don’t tell anyone you don’t absolutely trust, do you understand?”

“Are you saying we can’t trust you?”

“You barely know me.” C.C. confirmed, even though she had been watching the two of them for years. “You don’t know anything about me. By all rights, you shouldn’t let me know anything about you. They killed Marianne for the secrets she was keeping, because they found out _she was keeping secrets_. You must never let anyone figure out the secrets you’re keeping, do you understand?”

“Who’s ‘ _they’_?” Lelouch demanded, frustrated even as he sat up straighter and attempted to pull away from her grasp. “Do you know? Who killed mother—?”

“It doesn’t matter who killed her, what matters is she’s dead,” C.C. told him firmly. “And you and your sister might be next.”

— 

She stayed with him after Clovis, feeling more hollow than ever. 

Whatever Lelouch had done, no one seemed to tie him to Prince Clovis’s death as of yet.

“Please,” a man said, on his knees in front of the Black Prince, face pressed against the ground as he pleaded, “my family is in that city. I… I sent them there to keep them safe. They’re behind the quarantine line, and I just— I’m begging you, my prince, please let me go find them. They’re still alive, I know it. They’re uninfected. My little girl is smart, she knows what to do—” 

It was a strange sight to see: the fully grown man, tall and strong with a frame that spoke of heavy-weight training, skinned tanned and burnt in places on his bald head, and hands rough from manual work, prostrating himself before the seated teenager, pale and thin and dressed in dark ornate silks. 

That was the way of history, C.C. knew, because those in power rarely worked for the power they held.

Lelouch held up a hand to halt the man’s ramblings. 

“You signed a contract,” the prince said, “to serve in the Black Knights.”

“I did,” the man confirmed, forehead still pressed against the ground in supplication. “And I honor it, I do, I promise, I would fight for you, my prince, but my family… please. My wife has been ill, and my little girl, she’s so smart— she’s beautiful, and she’s so kind—” 

“Jeremiah?” The prince asked, and Sir Gottwald stepped forward. “Your thoughts?”

“...It would be tricky, Your Highness.”

“If I could just be released,” the man pleaded, “just for today, I’ll— I’ll come back. The contract—” 

“Is not so easily broken, even for a day.” Lelouch finished. C.C. made her way closer to the light, now curious as she watched the events. “I can not release you from your duties, and it would do you no good for me to do so.”

The man on his knees was tense, face hidden. 

Lelouch sighed after a moment, bringing a hand to his eyes. “...How many behind the quarantine line?”

“Estimates of another fifteen thousand, Your Highness. We don’t know how many are infected.” Sir Gottwald provided the information immediately. 

Lelouch turned his head to his knight in askance as Sir Kururugi came forth to whisper something, and then looked back. 

“I beg you, my prince,” the man started again, more desperate than ever, “cut me off, kill me after if you must, but give me leave to find my family.”

“If you’re so willing to give your life to your venture, why don’t you just sneak out yourself?” Lelouch asked him. “Why come to me after the Emperor decreed the city to be razed?”

“Because I promised my loyalty to Prince Lelouch vi Britannia,” the man pleaded, “on the faith that Zero would find a way, would always find a way. Because my loyalty lies with you, my prince, even if I need to betray that loyalty to save my family.”

“Thirty-four minutes before the incendiary bombs,” Sir Kururugi said quietly. “Your Highness.”

“Rolo,” Lelouch said as he stood, and the young knight came forth eagerly, “I’m afraid there’s been an unfortunate accident at the communications tent. A fire, maybe?”

“That’s unfortunate,” Sir Haliburton agreed, and then smiled sweetly, “I’ll be sure to evacuate the people and make sure everyone’s safe.”

He left quickly, and Lelouch continued, “How many of the Black Knights are still in their KMFs?”

Sir Kururugi’s smile was both thin and satisfied. “The majority of them, awaiting your orders.”

“I have a mission for you, LeFronc,” Lelouch called to the man, “of the utmost importance, and we’ve a very limited time.”

LeFronc looked up cautiously. 

“I have a soldier whose family is stuck behind quarantine, and it’s your top priority to get them to safety.” Lelouch told him, with a slow upturn of his lips. He turned to Kururugi. “How many can you evacuate from behind the lines in— thirty minutes?”

“More with you there to weed out the infection, Your Highness,” his knight replied easily.

“Thirty minutes,” Lelouch confirmed, already pulling at the cravat around his throat and making his way from the room, surrounded by loyal knights. LeFronc looked dazed. “I expect you back before that time, or not at all, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, my prince!” The man said, rising to his feet. 

“Let’s make every minute count,” was the last thing C.C. heard before the soldiers all exited with their prince in tow. 

She leaned against the shelf she had been slinking behind, and waited. 

— 

After the gate was open, C.C. dreamed of Marianne. 

“I can’t believe you’ve stayed with him this long,” the woman was laughing, as vibrant and sharp as she had been while alive, “do you love him, C.C.?”

“I loved you once,” C.C. told her, “why is that so surprising?”

“Because you’ve never come running when I was threatened,” Marianne told her, painted red lips curved into a sly smile. “You’ve never promised to stay with me.”

“You didn’t need my help.”

Marianne leaned in close, close enough that C.C. could feel her lips against her ear, “Are you in love with my son?”

Was she? She thought of the tiny boy, holding onto his baby sister and placing chess pieces down in a pattern that was already beyond her, and then of the young man whose smile was as bitter as it was broken. She had watched him grow up in snapshots, and wondered what it was like to be the target of his adoration. 

“No,” C.C. concluded, although she didn’t know what she felt exactly. She loved Lelouch, just as she once loved Marianne, but more. Perhaps it was because she saw a part of herself, echoed inside the quiet moments in Lelouch’s mind. Maybe it was in the way Lelouch so freely gave his loyalty and affection, even to strangers, even to a dangerous woman like her. “I’m not so naive as to fall in love.”

“Then why do you stay?” Marianne asked her, smiling. 

“Why did you choose being a mother over a knight?” C.C. asked her instead. 

Marianne wrapped arms around her, strong and vice-like, and said, “Maybe I made a mistake.”

“No,” C.C. told her, more sure of her own words than anything else in the world. “For once, I think that was the right choice. You… you made the right choice, Marianne.”

— 

“You can pilot,” Lelouch said, although for some reason it sounded like a statement of surprise. 

“Decently,” C.C. confirmed, fingers trailing along the controls of the Knightmare prototype. She smiled thinly, “better than you.”

He scowled but didn’t deny it. 

“It’s a shame your newest Frame was destroyed,” she told him, still examining the interface for the Gawain. While still an exceptionally powerful Knightmare Frame made especially for royalty, it was only Lelouch’s backup, the Knightmare he had before the development of the Shinkiro, which boasted the wonders of just what could be done with the Druid System. 

The Gawain, the other other hand, had been first generation when it came to the Druid System in comparison to the Shinkiro, which required two pilots while Lelouch was down one. 

She wondered who piloted with him before, since his knight had a different Knightmare tailored to him. She would have to ask.

“You’re a decent pilot, I’ll give you that,” she allowed, because she didn’t want to deal with whatever fancy tantrum might come from a prince scorned, “but you don’t have the reflexes. You overthink. It slows you down.”

Luckily, he seemed to have outgrown the childish temper C.C. remembered from him, as Lelouch admitted easily, “I never had the constitution for it.”

“It shows,” she agreed, a tad teasing, before her expression flattened a bit. “You need a pilot now.”

Lelouch gave a low hum of agreement. “...Nunnally’s vision has gotten worse.”

It shouldn’t surprise her to know that at least one of Marianne’s children inherited her reflexes and talent for piloting, but the thought of the young princess in the seat of the Gawain was still a remarkable one. She originally thought, when the two were young, that Lelouch would end up inheriting his mother’s physique, seeing as he took so much after her looks. Yet both prince and princess remained petite and deceptively weak, although it seemed Nunnally was hiding some talents. 

“You could always stay away from battle,” she told him, stopping to lean against the controls and watch his reactions. “You’re the commander, after all. They said Zero has never lost a fight. I’m sure your strategic sense will work just as well or better outside of danger.”

“And what kind of message would that send?” Lelouch asked her, amused. “If I were to stay where it’s safe while I send my knights into battle? If the king doesn’t lead, how should he expect his subordinates to follow?”

“Do you fancy yourself a king, little prince?” C.C. asked, smile sly. “Aren’t you a little young to be planning a coup?”

Lelouch returned the smile. 

“Not many have made history by leaving behind ambitions,” he responded. “Although in this case, the answer is no. I have my hands full with the Black Knights— I’d rather not add the empire to my list of responsibilities.”

“Yet?” She asked.

He didn’t give a verbal response, although his smile reminded C.C. of Marianne’s before battle.

— 

She tended to stay away with Nunnally, half the time regretting immensely her connection to Lelouch already. C.C. was not ready to have both of Marianne’s children look at her as if she was something mystic and hopeful, but it was difficult to avoid when she promised to stay with Lelouch, and Nunnally was never far from her brother. 

It wasn’t a surprise when she retired to her room one day to hear the tones of a grand harp, the notes coming fast and with more passion than she would have normally associated with the instrument, loud and harsh, strings plucked to evoke harsher tones than the normal flowing, sweet song. 

She stood at the door of her room, watching the princess play through her song aggressively, waiting until it was over before she spoke up. 

“I wasn’t aware the harp could sound so angry,” C.C. drawled. 

Nunnally didn’t look up, although she smiled. “Good. I wanted it to sound angry.”

“Angry at something I’ve done?” C.C. asked. “I won’t apologize.”

“Toccata and Fugue in D Minor,” Nunnally told her instead, “was not originally written for the harp. Of course the orchestral version included two harps, but... Not many songs are written just for the harp. Not many composers look for the sounds that a harp makes, even if they include it. They want drama and emotion, not peace and tranquility.”

“It sounds awful,” C.C. told her easily, which made the princess laugh. 

“I would say that’s because of your room!” Nunnally said, spreading an arm to gesture at the shaped walls. “Everything sounds flat in here. I don’t even sound like myself. How can you stand it? This place takes all the magic out of music and sounds.”

“This is how things are meant to sound,” C.C. said, finally shutting the door behind her and making her way over to the bed, throwing herself down onto the covers to gaze wearily at the young princess. “Unaffected and untainted by other sounds.”

“Other sounds create harmony,” Nunnally told her, as if C.C. hadn’t been a master of music for eons. 

“Other sounds are noise. I can think clearly in here.”

Nunnally plucked a string on the harp, hard, the sound loud but fading away quickly, absorbed by the walls of the room. 

“What do you want, little princess?”

“Maybe I just want to talk. We’ve never really spoken, even though we’ve stayed close.”

“I don’t need another attachment,” C.C. told her. “Go away.”

“So brusque.” Nunnally started up another song, although this one more lulling, sweeter, the notes light and airy, sounding exactly as a harp should. “Everything sounds angry with you, don’t it? Like you don’t care?”

C.C. turned to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t.”

“Everything on the harp sounds so— _nice_ and _pretty_.” Nunnally said, as if C.C. hadn’t added that commentary. “Even the most dramatic songs out there sound only a little more emotive than normal on the harp, because the notes are all prettied up. I remember choosing this instrument when I was really young— I thought it looked so beautiful and sounded so elegant, and the woman playing it so at peace.

“I didn’t know that I’d have to try so hard just to sound anything other than peaceful.”

“Your point?”

“I always feel so angry when I play now,” Nunnally said, although her tone was placid and sweet. “But it hardly ever comes off that way, not unless I try really hard.”

The princess stopped her song and pushed the harp away from her up to its standing height, and adjusted her wheelchair, flicking off the breaks. 

“I guess I just wanted to know what instrument you play.” Nunnally said. “Because a lot of it sounds like apathy, but I think you’re feeling something else instead, and none of it breaks through unless things get really bad.”

“I don’t play music.” C.C. told her. _Not anymore_. 

“We all play music,” the young princess said, something in her words sounding shockingly old and wise. “Even in a room like this.”

— 

C.C. doesn’t know how she let her life become so entwined with Lelouch and his Black Knights. She didn’t know how she came from the vague interest, preferably far away from her, of a young child who might have powers that hadn’t shown itself in an age, to the child she checked up on a semi-regular basis, to the one she gave lessons to, to the young man she was now comforting, still refusing to show weakness even as he shook to contain his own emotions.

His shoulders were trembling under the shelter of her arms, and C.C. leaned her cheek against his hair as he curled further into himself. 

“He chose this,” Lelouch was murmuring, half hysterical and half feverishly, “he did this. He betrayed me.”

She didn’t know Kururugi enough to confirm or deny, only that he and Lelouch had been fast friends from a time after Marianne’s death. Barely the blink of an eye to C.C. Likely a small eternity to Lelouch. 

There was also the fact that she almost never saw one of them without the other, the two more common a pair than even Lelouch and Nunnally together. 

It would be easy for her to pass on some lessons she learned in her long life, all accumulating to this: never trust anyone with your heart. C.C. spent enough of her life being despised and eventually murdered by the one she chose to love, enough to understand that human nature was dark with jealousy and betrayals. 

Yet this, she thought, wasn’t it. It would just feel like such to Lelouch, who was so young still compared to her. But everyone had to experience their first crush and their first love and their first betrayal, and perhaps it was better for him to have experienced it here. 

That was the reason she held her tongue, saying nothing as she allowed the boy— young man— to babble out his incredulity and frustrations out, until his voice was hoarse and he slumped against her weakly. 

“...I think I’m a bad person,” he finally whispered to her, far too tired to hide the thoughts.

“You save thousands every week.” C.C. told him, although her tone was droll even as she stroked her fingers down the warmth of his neck, catching on the knobs of his spine, too prominent under skin. “You actively disobey the Emperor in favor of saving innocent lives. You have soldiers who would follow you to the ends of the Earth and then lie down to die if you asked it of them.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I didn’t want Nunnally to grow up thinking she shouldn’t act when she had to. I don’t actually care who lives and who dies… and I think Suzaku knew that.”

“You think that’s why he swore himself to Euphemia.” C.C. concluded. “And not because he was trying to save your life?”

“I,” Lelouch said, somehow finding some strength again to spit out the words, “would rather have died.”

Such emotion. It made C.C. snort, even if she was still attempting to comfort him. She had almost forgotten just how overwhelming it must be the first time an emotion took over, being the age that he was where every small scenario must feel like the end of the world; be all or end all. 

“Lelouch,” she said instead, pressing a hand against his hair. “How long would it take for you to learn the songs for Water and Wind?”

He pulled away from her, looking up with those unusually violet eyes, red-rimmed but not as feverishly bright as earlier. 

“You told me to hide,” he said, not questioning how she knew about the other Songs, “you’ve been telling me to hide it my entire life.” 

It would be something to help him take his mind off— trivial things. Inconsequential matters, for the most part, but things that might ultimately distract him when he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Maybe put all that teenage angst into something constructive. If he could defeat her in chess by age four and outwit the entire empire by age ten, since then winning two unbeatable wars before he was legally allowed to own property, then… 

“Maybe,” she commented slowly, “it’s time for you to make a bid for the throne, and find your mother’s assassin.”

“That’s—” Lelouch shook his head. “The world is falling apart, C.C., and you think this is the time for a coup?”

“No,” C.C. told him. “It’s a time for you to show everyone why you’re the perfect, and only, candidate for the throne.”

—

After Helsinki, C.C. went to find V.V.

“You did this,” she accused him, watching as the immortal in guise of a little boy sat and stared at a platform in the sky, outlined with light and pulsing with shadows.

“Of course I did,” V.V. answered her calmly, “I told you, did I? The world needs a cleansing. You think I didn’t know that you’ve been hiding them from me this entire time? I always did know there was something wrong with Marianne’s brats.”

“You’re playing with powers you don’t understand,” C.C. warned. 

V.V. chuckled at her, and then spread his arms out wide, grinning at her with teeth. “No one understands these powers! That’s why it’s our duty to study it. We can’t die. Or at least… we don’t stay dead. Nothing we do can change that, no matter how much you might long for the peace that the other side might offer you, C.C. What was it you said to me before…? Right. ‘Our lives are penance.’ How fitting.”

He looked away from her after that, expression softening into a boyish smile as he gazed up at the platform, a simulacrum of something innocent. 

“Besides, we’ve lived through armageddons and ragnaroks before. This will just be another little blip… a plague. Humans have that all the time.”

“It’s more than a plague,” C.C. insisted, suddenly angry. “Whatever you released, people are killing each other down there. Attacking their own children and loved ones. The infection and rot sticks even to inanimate objects!”

“And did you think I was going to wait?” V.V. snapped at her, “for your precious little prince to be all grown up so you could coax him into destroying the world himself? No. I won’t have it. I won’t share eternity with Marianne’s brat, I won’t leave him a world to destroy— I will take him down along with the rest of them, and in a century, two, I won’t have to remember this filthy era with that thieving whore—” 

C.C. drew the gun from her pocket and shot him through the head, right between the eyes to silence him. 

V.V. fell back a moment, the blood splattered on the pristine ground behind him in a halo and staining the white-blond hair, eyes frozen in a moment of shock and pain. 

And then he laughed, and laughed, and laughed, pushing himself back up again without bothering to wipe the blood away.

“You would make an enemy of me, C.C.?” He asked, nearly breathless with hysterical laughter. “Me? For what, for a prince with tainted blood that you won’t even remember in another handful of centuries anyway? You can’t get away from me, C.C.! You’ll never be able to get rid of me! We’re stuck together, you and I, and I will do so much worse to you than a bullet to the head. When I’m done with you, Clovis will be but a pleasant dream to you, and I will—”

She shot him again. And again. And again, until she ran out of bullets and he continued to laugh as blood bubbled from his mouth. 

— 

“I remember nothing of people,” C.C. told Lelouch in a bout of weakness, numb after her… encounter, with Clovis. He sat at her bedside, young and silent, even though she was uninjured and he must have better things to do with his time. “Even the ones I thought I would love forever. I keep nothing of them, not even my memories. Everything disappears. Everything fades. I can’t even keep my own name, in the end.”

“You’re C.C.,” Lelouch told her quietly, “that’s all you need to be.”

“A witch?” She stared up at the ceiling, the only light in the room slipping from between the curtains on the window, casting long shadows into the dark room. “I don’t remember what it’s like to be human. Maybe I never was. I exist in moments. I drift, and there is no shore.”

Her mind felt fragmented, still piecing itself together after months of constant pain. She felt light, but tense, as if floating atop water but knowing that she might drown if she weren’t careful. She would be pulled under by turbulent waters; by a single wave. 

Silence, silence all around her, but inside her head, her thoughts sang of destruction and recreation. 

“I drift,” she murmured, “and there is no one there.”

“I’m here,” Lelouch said. “Right now. You’re not drifting. You’re on land.”

She turned her head to look at him, this boy whom she watched grow up in moments, as stubborn as Marianne but so different from her. 

“You’re not alone,” he said to her, voice still as soft, “because I’m here.”

She smiled, wry. “Allying yourself with a witch? That’s not what a prince should do.”

Clovis was pristine— clean and impeccable at all times, even his shoes unscuffed as he stepped through a room of gore. Never got his own hands dirty. Always with a polite and distant smile. Coiffed blond hair and brightly colored clothing, smoothed without a single wrinkle. The perfect picture of a princely upbringing. 

Lelouch was similar in ways, fine-boned features and impeccable clothing that denoted his rank, easy enough to see the two as the brothers they were. Yet there was something in honest in the black he wore, the blood that stained his skin earlier, and the anger in his eyes. 

“If you are a witch,” he said, “then I must be a demon. You promised to teach me. We are allies, you and I.”

“...A witch and a demon,” C.C. mused, and then huffed out a laugh, closing her eyes against the irony. “Now why would you think something like that of yourself?”

“Because,” he said, “you hear it too, don’t you? The Song. The silence between beats. You’ve sung the Song of Destruction before. It’s so easy. The tune so simple.”

“Is there even a difference between music and silence?” C.C. whispered. 

“No,” Lelouch said. “Not with us.”

— 

“You lied to me,” V.V. accused, the child immortal fuming as C.C. brushed her fingers over the ivory of piano keys, walking from one instrument to another in one of the many music rooms in the palace at Pendragon. “You said you didn’t interfere. You said you knew nothing about how the world’s Songs worked. You told me you didn’t know why the songs left the world, and why it only came back for the royal family!”

“It changes,” C.C. told him, gliding past the brass instruments with a finger trailing along cold metal. “Every time. One song in the world I lived in, many songs in the world you live in… and now, finally, spread through one family in the modern world. I know little to nothing of why. Perhaps the world is trying to supress music on its own?”

“I won’t stand for liars,” V.V. told her darkly. “Thousands of years, I’ve been attempting to research why the songs progressed in this manner. Why some disappeared, and some remained… why _one family_ retains songs that many used to have access to. You—” 

“You and I,” C.C. interrupted, picking up a discarded viola bow near a seat and weighting it in her hands, “have lived through eons. We have no reason to lie to each other, although plenty of reasons for secrets. And I keep many secrets… mine, yours, and even the world’s. You have no right to secrets not your own.”

She didn’t have to look in his direction to know how his expression darkened. “The first Empress of Britannia—” 

It took only three steps before C.C. was standing close enough to him to press a flat end of the bow under his chin, digging it hard into the flesh of his neck and forcing V.V. to look up toward her and back up half a step. 

“Is none of your concern.” She told him smoothly. “We do what we will to each other, V.V. But there are lines we never cross. I won’t touch your precious little Charles, and you do not pry into my affairs.”

He stared at her, with those near glowing pink eyes, and said flatly, “You just left her.”

“I made a choice,” C.C. said, dropping the bow and smiling at the red indent on his skin, “one that, according to history, was the correct choice.”

“You never looked back.”

“I gave her everything she needed to protect herself,” C.C. said with a shrug, the old guilt far enough away that she could ignore it easily. “She even learned to Sing without being taught. What could I possibly have given a child that her father’s kingdom couldn’t?”

— 

“I could destroy everything,” Lelouch said, an arm hiding his eyes as he lay in the dirt, no longer the impeccable prince of before. “It’s so _easy_. I don’t care who lives or dies.”

There was nothing left around them, their surroundings black and smoldering as far as the eye could see.

C.C. sat down next to him, ignoring the stains she would be sure to get on her white garb. She lay a hand atop his dark hair, and told him, “But you do care.”

He didn’t deny it, although he gave a mocking laugh, wet with emotion. “...But we can’t stop now, can we?”

“No,” she agreed, “we can’t. But we’ll do this together. We’re accomplices, you and I.”

— 

“You should never fall in love,” C.C. told him one day, lounging in his room as he adjusted his cuffs. “A piece of advice, from someone much wiser than you. Don’t ever fall in love.”

Lelouch only laughed at her that day, eyes bright and young and at that point still a hair shorter than her, still such an innocent child, as he turned to her with a smile and as asked, “Why would I ever do something as silly as that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter in particular might feel a bit... dizzy, cutting through time with each scene, but I decided on keeping it a mish-mash jumbo since that's how it's all played out in C.C.'s head, as this time around (inspired by Finis in Lost Song) C.C. is... sooo much older. Honestly, the catalyst for this story really was seeing the parallels between C.C. and Finis: how she tries to limit the amount of people who she cares about, and just how the passage of time has... disjointed her memories.  
> And Clovis is.... errr. A child with a magnifying glass sitting atop an anthill, really.


	6. Alouette, je te plumerai

Sir Rolo Haliburton was out of bed by six a.m. every morning. 

In years past, he would dress and prepare for the day, then check up on Nunnally and she would greet him with a sleepy and cheerful smile, waving him off and joking that no, she didn’t manage to get kidnapped overnight. Then he made his way to the courtyard toward the barracks where there were always knights training with one thing or another, moves pristine and sharp with practice, no hint of morning dust in their eyes. He had a different training for each day of the week, every day without fail, a little different than the rest of the knights, seeing as he was smaller and younger than them. 

While other knights trained with swords and fists, Rolo trained in chemistry and in subtrufudge, in hiding his presence and with short daggers and hidden guns. He worked with poisons and explosives, sometimes practicing smiling in the mirror to see what look might be the most disarming to strangers. 

At seven, he would make his way back towards the vi Britannia branch of the palace, since the siblings had long since abandoned the Aries Imperial Villa after the death of Lady Marianne, only returning once or twice a year in the summers to check on the condition of their childhood home and to retreat from the heat of the capitol in the midst of Social, begging off on excess parties due to obligations. 

There, he would be greeted by both Lelouch and Nunnally, and Nunnally would hold a finger to her smile conspiratorially, and the two of them would latch on to Lelouch’s side, attempting (usually successfully) to drag him down amidst heavy protests. 

Rolo would laugh then, his first real laugh of the day, thin arms wound around Lelouch’s ribs and bracketed by Nunnally’s own, and Lelouch would complain about pesky younger siblings and then sink fingers in their hair. 

“But we’re your favorite!” Nunnally would exclaim, and Rolo would hold his breath. 

“Yes,” Lelouch would laugh, “my favorite brother and sister. The biggest brats.”

And Rolo’s heart would warm, his cheeks would flush with pleasure, because he was _Lelouch’s favorite brother_ , and he would tighten his grip and press his nose against the warmth of Lelouch’s coat, closing his eyes with contentment that he hadn’t known existed until he met the siblings. 

He had a secret, and it was a precious one, feeling like the flutter of butterfly wings against his heart.

He wouldn’t see Suzaku in the morning until after that, the other knight with his own morning routine to follow, the two of them would end up sitting with the vi Britannias not like knights, but rather like family, sharing breakfast and conversing like normal families did. 

Like how Rolo assumed normal families did.

His was a family without a mother or a father, and no blood relation, but Rolo had never felt more at home than he did than with Lelouch and Nunnally, and by extension, Suzaku. 

Even if it meant he was to attend the music lessons twice a week where the tutor would lament over his wrist positions and holds, asking him each session just once to ‘please play softer’ before Rolo stared at him long enough that the man would back off. 

Everyone at the palace seemed to back off if he stared at them long enough. 

He liked it that way. 

— 

Rolo was (maybe) nine years old when he first made a mistake on mission, ending up with a long slash down his side that bled a lot and led to him taking refuge behind a dumpster, resting because he was too tired and too filthy to step out into the streets. He would draw too much attention, even in the rainy autumn weather that had most people glancing down at their feet instead of at each other. He could have ripped up pieces of his clothing to turn into bandages— he had been taught to do that, but Rolo was too tired. 

Tired and uncaring and with the first blemish on his record, clutching onto the hilt of his dagger as he shivered in the rain and let his mind drift as he watched the shadows of people’s movements. His wound had been painful that day, he remembered, but beyond that, he cared little for it. 

It wasn’t until the rain stopped dripping on his face that he looked up to see a dark umbrella slanted over his head, held in the hands of a boy a few years older than him, dressed warmly and sleekly for the weather in thick black wool, with eyes a lot like his. 

“Are you okay?” The boy asked, and Rolo might have killed him if not for the fact that he seemed to be accompanied by another boy who was waiting just a few steps away from the main street, also dressed sharply, with a gaze that followed his every movement in warning. 

If he killed this boy, on a whim just because he was a witness, Rolo somehow knew, he would not be walking out of the situation alive. 

So Rolo didn’t respond that time, and eventually the boy left him the umbrella and a handkerchief after a few minutes of fussing with no answer from Rolo. 

Luckily his own clothes hid the blood enough for the boy the leave, and when Rolo grabbed onto the handle of the umbrella, it was warm. 

— 

The handkerchief was soft and clean, with a white embroidered ‘L.L’ at a corner, and Rolo found himself returning to it again and again, the texture soothing somehow. It was a small square of fabric that spoke of wealth, much like the polished wooden handle of the umbrella he had been left with, with the thick black fabric encased over a sturdy metal skeleton. He used it the next time he was on a mission and it rained, to prevent his clothes from getting wet… and then on the next mission, and the next. 

He got scathing remarks of disapproval both for holding onto the items and for his first compromised mission.

It was nearly three months later, with the scar on his torso healed up to a pink line, that Rolo returned to that same city again, this time without a target or a goal. 

There, he sat on a bench in the early winter weather and waited, clutching onto the umbrella. 

On the one hand, it had been given to him, so it was his. 

On the other, he wasn’t supposed to have worldly positions like that— or at least, possessions he actually treasured. That meant he had to give it back (because throwing it away felt… not right). 

But the dark haired boy with eyes like his own didn’t appear that day, and Rolo gave up soon after it got dark. 

He waited there again the next day, and the day after that, with nothing else pressing on his time. If he was needed for a mission, then he would be found summarily. 

The fourth day it was the other boy that appeared— the one with the sharp and dangerous eyes, who stayed silent in the main street, and who shared his umbrella after the boy with purple eyes left his own for Rolo. 

This time he was dressed in a soft, dark green coat with a pristine white scarf to protect him from the cold, and was frowning down at Rolo. 

“I know you.” The boy said, with the hint of a foreign accent, “what are you doing here?”

He wasn’t the one Rolo wanted to talk to… but he would do.

So Rolo gets up from the bench, shoves the umbrella into the older boy’s arms, and then walks away.

— 

He didn’t give back the handkerchief in his pocket. 

— 

He got— sloppy. 

One small blemish on his record wasn’t quite a stain but rather a mistake treated as learning pains. So long as he completed his kills, Rolo had a series of successful missions, with very few injuries if only because he liked to keep his methods fast and sudden without giving anyone time to retaliate. 

The long scar on his torso taught him to do better, after all. 

Yet another mission in the same city lead to him being distracted enough afterward that he returned to the same bench he waited at previously, clearing off some of the snow before he hopped onto the frozen wood and sat very still there in his boots and mittens, waiting and— wondering. 

It was very cold out, and once in a while Rolo would bring his hands together to rub his cold fingers together and breathe a warm breath out into the fabric of his mittens, willing the heat to seep through the fabric faster. He’d move his legs once in a while, wiggling his toes in his boots to keep warm, but for the most part, Rolo sat as still as he could on the snow covered bench, gazing at nothing in particular. 

He knew better than to expect that anyone would be outside in such weather, but… 

“Are you lost?”

He looked up, seeing the familiar violet gaze of— it was the same boy as the first time, a different dark umbrella speckled white with snow, bundled in warm clothing and accessories that looked thick and expensive, and accompanied by the same boy as before— along with a little girl this time, who was holding onto his hand and looking over at Rolo curiously with strands of sandy blond hair peeking out beneath a knitted pink cap. 

Once is chance, twice coincidence… but this time, Rolo never believed he would… 

“How long have you been out here?” The boy asked, sounding concerned, “Are you waiting for someone?”

Rolo almost couldn’t believe his eyes, and he almost forgot to shake his head. 

“Not lost?” The boy asked, “Or not waiting for someone?”

“No,” Rolo finally said, answer to both questions, and then turned his gaze back to the hands in his lap, not sure what to do now that he did manage to see that boy again. The nice older boy who asked about him, and was now… asking about him again. 

He missed the look that the other children gave each other, and the way the little girl stood up on tip-toes to whisper something in the boy’s ear, only managing to catch as the boy asked, “Well, would you like to visit the cafe with us? I promised Nunnally I would take her to the place with the hot chocolate she likes, and it’s very cold outside. Even if you’re waiting for someone, it should be inside. It’s not very far, just around the corner.”

When Rolo looked up again, the boy was extending his hand again, the little girl now holding the hand of the other boy with the green scarf pulled up to cover half his face. 

This time around, Rolo reached out and took the hand. 

— 

When Rolo was ten years old, he heard one of the girls in the park— with a pretty yellow dress and blond hair up in carefully pinned ringlets, laugh about the little orphaned prince and princess, and how they would amount to nothing. 

He smiled at her and asked her to play, and later on that afternoon, stabbed her through the throat and threw her body in a shallow grave under the bushes. He washed off the blood in the closest fountain and then went home to listen to Nunnally’s harp practice. 

She didn’t pause in her music when he came back, but did afterward wipe at his face with a frown, telling him that he missed a spot. 

“You can’t do this anymore,” she told him quietly, both alarmed and disapproving even if she didn’t ask what happened, as she asked the maid to call for her brother. “People will notice.”

“No, they won’t,” he said stubbornly, refusing to bring up the death tally already under his belt to her. He had been sent on mission after mission for four years by then, and have never been caught. 

“Okay,” Nunnally conceded instead, “but I don’t like it. So please, please, try not to.”

That was enough to stay his hand the next time he saw a little girl, in the palace gardens this time, followed around by a retinue of retainers and tutors, yanking at Nunnally’s hair. 

That time, he just broke the other princess’s hand. 

— 

“No identity papers?” Lelouch asked, a little taken aback by the information brought by Sir Gottwald. Rolo just sat next to him easily, already knowing this. Of course he didn’t have papers to identify him— it would have been a hindrance to him, if someone could identify him through something as mundane as DNA in a crime scene. It was easier for him to stay a ghost in the system. “But that’s— how did you even get into Pendragon without that?”

The question was directed at him, and Rolo only shrugged, leaning towards Lelouch, not quite daring to wrap his arms around Lelouch’s own like he had seen Nunnally do, but unwilling to scoot away despite the glare that Sir Gottwald was levelling at him. 

Lelouch didn’t quite seem to realize his own response as he laid a warm hand on Rolo’s hair in return, likely an ingrained instinct for Nunnally, even as he asked Gottwald, “Then we have no idea where he comes from?”

“None,” the knight answered evenly, still with the suspicious stare directed Rolo’s way. “As far as the directories are concerned… he doesn’t exist.”

Lelouch hummed thoughtfully. “...Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

“How are you sure we can even trust him, Your Highness?” Gottwald asked, unconcerned with the fact that he was speaking of his suspicions with Rolo right there. “He could be an assassin sent here—” 

“I am,” Rolo confirmed quietly, and shrugged. “But I’d never hurt Lelouch. Or Nunnally.”

It seemed important to include the princess in that statement, seeing as Sir Gottwald followed both vi Britannia siblings zealously any time Rolo was around, like a huge mother hen. 

“You,” Gottwald addressed him stiffly, “are certainly implicating yourself.”

Rolo didn’t care about cases or identity or papers. Instead, he looked up at Lelouch for direction, watching the older boy’s frown carefully. 

“...He’ll need papers, then,” the prince said slowly, “perhaps a whole new identity. Can you get that arranged?”

Sir Gottwald straightened to attention despite the disapproving frown, and agreed, “Of course, Prince Lelouch. I will find someone for that.”

“While you’re at it…” Lelouch added, and reached for his tablet with his free hand, the other still resting on Rolo’s hair, and Rolo preened. The prince tapped at the tablet, arranging several things before handing it over to the knight, “several more identities. These should come in useful.”

The adult knight accepted the tablet gingerly, glancing over the contents quickly before asking, “...and not for Sir Kururugi?”

“...Suzaku doesn’t need one, not when the court has so helpfully tried to conceal his identity for us. Thanks to their efforts, no one outside of Pendragon knows who he is, just as very few know who I am. There are too many royal children to bother with, after all. Very few not working in the palace would know the names and faces of us all. The world concerns itself only with _Liedmeisters_ , and they get their sources from the ceremonies… of which mine was not publicized, thanks to their disinclination toward Suzaku. I can use that to my advantage.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Sir Gottwald bowed his head in agreement, “I’ll get these done right away.”

“Perhaps not right away,” Lelouch said, and looked toward Rolo with a small smile. “Let’s ask Nunnally for her opinions on things, why don’t we?”

Nunnally, Rolo found, was excited enough she couldn’t seem to sit still. 

“That’s an amazing idea!” She exclaimed when she first heard about Lelouch’s plans, having been watched over by Kururugi at the time, who seemed to have been pulled into her tea party rather than watching over her. “And, and—!” 

She practically danced her way over to Rolo, grabbing him by the hands to spin him around, with him stumbling in shock behind her, even as Kururugi seemed to brush himself off of all the stuffed animals that had been piled around him as he went to stand with Lelouch. 

“Do you really not have identity papers?” She demanded to know, although there was something excited and bouncy in her tone. “I never asked! What’s your blood type? Birthday? Astrology sign?”

“I—” Rolo could barely get his words out around her excitement, “I— don’t know?”

“You’re my age, right?” Nunnally continued, and then shook his hands in her grip, “then we can share birthdays! Like twins! I’m a Scorpio, and Lelouch should have been too except he was born two weeks too late for that.”

“Nunnally,” Lelouch said behind them, sounding exasperated. “I’m _older_ than you, that’s not how it works.”

“He should have been a Scorpio like me,” Nunnally repeated without any more indication of listening to her brother, “but now you can be!”

Rolo glanced over at Lelouch for help, feeling a little out of element with the active princess clinging to his hands, except Lelouch was smiling at them. 

“Because,” Nunnally continued as if she hadn’t seen that look at all, “we wanted to do this for Suzaku, but no one would have believed it— it’s not just your official papers, you know! Rolo, Rolo! How do you feel about being our brother?”

Rolo’s breath caught, and he glanced from Nunnally’s shining eyes up to Lelouch, who was looking at them with fondness. “....Brother?”

With the vi Britannias? Rolo never dreamed of it. He just— wanted to stay with them. Wanted to stay close to the warmth, and the extended hand. To be taken in from the cold. 

“Jumping the gun again,” Lelouch said, shaking his head. “...But Nunnally’s right, Rolo. I’ve been compiling information for… an alternative identity should we need one, and while it would be difficult to offer the position to Suzaku, you do look to be Nunnally’s age, and we share similar eye colors. It would be simple to put you down as our brother on our alternate papers… if you’d like to stay.”

“ _Twins_ ,” Nunnally insisted excitedly. “At least another Scorpio!”

“...I want to stay.” Rolo said, quiet, almost afraid that this would all end up a dream if he spoke too loud.

Nunnally dashed that thought with a loud cheer before she threw her arms around him and Rolo stood there awkwardly, looking to Lelouch for direction because it felt… right. The older boy had a barely there smile, standing with Kururugi, and it almost felt like the first time Rolo had seen him, and he knew that he had made the right choice. 

“Of course it can’t be your _main_ identity and all,” Nunnally said once she drew back again, hair bouncing around her shoulders, “since it’s meant to be something like a _secret_ alternate identity, but— what do you think of Lamperouge? As a name, I mean!”

“It’s far too obvious of a name,” Lelouch lamented. 

“But I like it!” Nunnally told him excitedly, turning to Rolo, “We’ve been using it for a few months already!”

Lelouch only gave a huff of reluctant amusement, “...but you like it.”

“A name?” Rolo asked. 

“A _family_ name,” Nunnally explained, eyes shining. “Like a real family!”

Behind them, Suzaku was saying something softly enough that Rolo couldn’t hear, and Lelouch huffed a breath of laughter at what was said. Rolo was staring wide-eyed at Nunnally, at the fall of sunshine into her hair and her happy grin and pink bow at her throat. A family? He didn’t have a family. He didn’t know what a family did, or how he should— behave. 

“You’ve been with us for months already,” Nunnally said cheerfully, swinging his hands between hers left and right. “And Lelouch loves you, so I love you, too!”

“I—” what could he possibly say to that? Rolo threw a quick glance backwards towards Lelouch, the older boy who had reached out to him when he was lost and when no one else had, taking in how the prince was conversing quietly with a wide smile at his knight. When he looked back, Rolo could see Nunnally with the exact same smile, wide and bright, aimed in his direction. 

Maybe, he thought, he really did include Nunnally in the list of people that he wanted to… stay around. 

“...I like the name,” he said, feeling both defeated and somehow like he had won the greatest prize in the entire world all at the same time.

_Brother_ , he thought, and the word warmed him from the inside.

— 

It took Rolo a strangely long time to acclimate to how differently the vi Britannias behaved in private and the way they behaved in public. There were levels to it, from whey they thought they were completely alone, to when they were with different siblings and combinations thereof. Then there were the moments when they would smile genially for the court: where Nunnally would curtsy and smile sweetly for visiting foreign dignitaries, and Lelouch’s smile were empty and he would stare blankly at conversations, feigning interest in subjects that Rolo knew disgusted him. 

In public, they sat prim and proper, sweet and elegant always, while in private Nunnally would tuck her legs underneath her in a chair and Lelouch’s shoulders would slump ever so slightly in relaxation. 

Even more curious was Suzaku, who wore the most stoic and blank expression when observed by others, with his posture perfect and his manners impeccable always, while in private he would lounge lazily with the royal siblings, loud and boisterous and laughing so freely Rolo wondered just how others hadn’t managed to hear, even through the thick doors. 

It didn’t make a lick of sense to him why anyone would behave so differently. Rolo always did what he felt he was supposed to, and hid nothing of his own blankness. If he felt something, then it would show regardless of whether he was in public or in private. Lelouch said it made him a very honest person. Nunnally said she liked when Rolo would smile. 

Suzaku kept his distance, still wary of Rolo, and Rolo didn’t blame him. That was a smart move, especially since Rolo understood himself enough to know that his first instinct was to eliminate threats. He didn’t think of Lelouch and Nunnally as threats, and instead— he felt drawn to them, to their warmth and their bright eyes and their affection, gravitating towards the siblings like tides to the moon. 

But he would still tense and almost reach for a weapon when Nunnally grabbed onto his hands, or when Lelouch lay a warm hand on his hair, both actions inciting a stirring in his chest of _want_ that he didn’t understand. 

“Should I not be seen with you in public?” He once asked them, and Nunnally looked taken aback as she stopped sticking flowers in his hair, while the words made Lelouch put down his book. 

“Why would you ask that?” Nunnally asked, distraught. 

He thought about it a moment, and asked instead, “Why doesn’t Suzaku just kill Lord Bedievere?”

“Because that would be a crime,” Nunnally answered immediately, eyes wide at the question. “And he’d get into a lot of trouble for it!”

Suzaku didn’t say anything, still standing as still as ever, the proper pose for a knight, not two steps away from Lelouch. Rolo didn’t expect any differently by now, since they were in the palace gardens, and while they were technically alone, they were still in a public space. 

“I could kill him,” Rolo suggested instead in a rare moment of altruism, “and then he won’t get into trouble for it.”

They were alone enough that he wasn’t scolded for that statement, but instead Lelouch laughed and turned to his knight, teasing, “See, Suzaku? Even Rolo agrees that Bedievere is a jackass.”

“He’s mean,” Rolo agreed with a nod, feeling more free about expressing the words with Lelouch’s reaction. “Rude. He should be bowing to you, not the other way around. And he says bad things about Suzaku. Everyone can hear it. Things would be better with him dead.”

Rolo didn’t really understand court, or the titles that came with it, but he knew that the royal family were important, and thought that everyone should bow to Lelouch and Nunnally to greet them. 

“We’re kids,” Nunnally told him, continuing to weave flowers into Rolo’s hair once more, fingers warm where it brushed against his scalp. “He’s an adult. That means it’s only polite that we greet him with respect.”

“He doesn’t deserve it.” Rolo said.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Nunnally told him, her words too resigned for a little girl, “there are rules. We can’t break the rules so long as he doesn’t. And being rude and… and saying bad things, apparently isn’t breaking the rules.”

Rolo looked to Lelouch for a confirmation, knowing that the older boy would have all the answers there, but Lelouch seemed to agree with his sister, even if his expression was sour. 

“So long as Suzaku plays by the rules, too,” Nunnally told him, sticking a large yellow blossom into Rolo’s hair, “then Lord Bedievere can’t do anything to him, either. So we have to keep playing by the rules, too, to make sure Suzaku is safe.”

Lelouch leaned up a bit to whisper something in Japanese to Suzaku, and then laughed, “Now there’s a tautology, and a conundrum.” 

The knight in turn only shook his head, although he looked a bit amused, and said back plainly in English, “Now’s not a time for language lessons.”

Rolo stayed silent for a bit, musing on Nunnally’s words. “...I don’t have to play by the rules, do I?”

“Everyone plays by the rules,” the little princess told him, a smile on her face but her tone uncharacteristically serious. She seemed to tire of attempting to weigh his head down with more flowers, instead picking up the discarded blossoms from where they sat on the grass and instead fidgeting with them, weaving them together deftly. She looked up once or twice at her brother, who continued to read under the shade of a tree, and seemed to want to say something, but didn’t.

“I don’t,” Rolo groused a little, catching her attention again, a little sullen. He didn’t understand the whole facade of how they kept different personalities for different people, how they behaved differently in public and in private— how they held themselves, moved, and even said different things depending on the situation and who they were with. It was all too confusing. He didn’t like the Pendragon Court at all. 

“Different people expect different things,” Nunnally tried to teach him, hands still weaving the flowers together, movements quick and precise, “and they get… angry, when they don’t get what they want. Well. That’s how adults work, anyway. Our jobs are just to not get in the way, or get them angry. That’s what Nellie says. Be polite, smile, and curtsy. She says it’s easier for us to just pretend not to understand what they’re saying, but I don’t like that either. It just makes them say more horrible things.”

“About Suzaku?” Rolo asked, this time quieter. 

Nunnally gave a noncommittal noise, strands of sandy blond hair slipping from her loose braids as she looked down at her flowers, “...Yes. Amongst other things.”

“Who’s been saying horrible things?” Lelouch asked, apparently listening in to them now instead of reading. Nunnally only shrugged casually, as if she knew that her brother was listening in all along. 

“Anyone.” She said vaguely. “Everyone. You know who.”

“I could make them stop,” Rolo volunteered again, and Nunnally smiled brightly at him, even as she shook her head. 

“Anything we do to make them stop would only make it worse,” she said, although Rolo disagreed silently.

“ _I’ll_ make them stop,” Lelouch declared, “if they think they can bother you. Who is it specifically? What did they say?”

That seemed to make Nunnally huff out a breath, cheeks rounded with air as she pushed herself up to her feet, unheeding of the grass stains on her pink dress and stepped over to drop the flower crown on Lelouch’s head, the prince merely looking amused by the action as he accepted gracefully. 

“No one,” she declared plainly, which was a clear lie. Still, she beamed at her brother and hugged him around the head, only stopping as he complained for air, and then plopped herself down next to him, leaning into his side as she squeezed a spot for herself under his arm, arms interlocked tightly around his ribs as she demanded, “Read to me?”

“You hate Shakespeare,” Lelouch said, amused. 

“I don’t like his jokes,” she agreed, “but read to me anyway?”

Lelouch seemed to settle in as well as he agreed, and Rolo scooted over to the siblings, inching ever closer until Lelouch seemed to notice and beckoned him over easily, which allowed him to scramble over to them, taking the space opposite the princess as Lelouch also wrapped an arm around him, making Nunnally giggle. 

Rolo’s eyes were wide despite himself, a warmth suffusing through his being as he leaned oh so carefully against Lelouch’s side, not daring to be as clingy as Nunnally but enraptured nevertheless as the prince began reading words that Rolo didn’t even know, his tone dramatic as he told the story of storm that separated a pair of siblings, and a sister who disguised herself as a man and looked just like her brother, and the love triangle shenanigans that ensued. 

Carefully, so very carefully, Rolo set his head on Lelouch’s shoulder and tried not to think about whether his presence, his refusal to play by the rules, would only be a problem for the siblings in public. 

— 

“Why red?” Rolo asked after Nunnally demanded a red bandage for the cut on her pinky, a tiny little scratch she got from carelessly running her hand down her lyre harp too quickly and too forcefully in her excitement. She was kicking her legs as Lelouch and Suzaku went off to find her aforementioned red bandaid, since the maids before informed them that they didn’t have anything of that sort. 

“Because!” Nunnally exclaimed, bringing up her slightly scraped pinky. “It has to be red!”

That… didn’t answer anything at all. 

Rolo just waited, knowing that the princess would likely explain if he kept quiet for long enough. True to precedence, she did. 

“Because it’s on my _pinky_ ,” the excited girl said, shoving her hand toward his face even as Rolo backed up a step. “And it’s like that story, see? That one about people being connected by fate! With a— with a red string around their finger!”

“Connected?” Rolo asked. 

“Yeah!” Nunnally nodded. “That way, it’s like you were always meant to have met each other!”

She kicked her legs a few more times atop the tall seat she was seated on, and then grinned childishly, “I bet I can ask for extra bandaids as well. Maybe if I ask _really_ nicely, I can get Lelouch to wear one too! And Rolo, Rolo, you should have one, too!”

“I…” the idea was both sweet and appealing, but at the same time he baulked at the thought. “I don’t want to.”

“Ehh?” Nunnally exclaimed, surprised to stillness for a moment. “Why not? I think it was a— a great stroke of fate when we found you.”

Rolo thought so as well, but he still shook his head in denial. He didn’t like how Nunnally was starting to look upset at his refusal, but he wasn’t going to give in to something like that. 

“Why not?” The princess asked again, tone pitched childishly as she pouted at him. 

The idea of… having met Lelouch and Nunnally due to fate was both appealing and appalling, both because he liked the idea that they would have run into each other no matter what, but at the same time he felt it diminished just how special that meeting was to him. But above all else… 

“Because,” he tried to explain to her, unsure about the frown on his face, “we’d just trip over ourselves! And what if one of us needs to use the bathroom? I don’t want to wait outside the door!”

Strings sounded— _awful_. Almost like leashes, but obviously it going to tangle a lot easier and knot at every opportunity. He supposed the good thing would be that something that thin would be easily broken, but from what it seemed like to him, it _shouldn’t_ be easily broken. 

...Unless it was meant to be easily broken? What a frightening thought, that a special bond like that could be cut and severed so easily… was this what they meant by metaphor? 

Nunnally, however, was giggling at him with her hands covering the lower part of her face. 

“I meant we should all wear the bandaids, silly!” She said, her smile peeking through from between her fingers. “What did you think— that we’d all be connected by strings? Those are supposed to be invisible.”

“Invisible strings would still tie you to someone,” Rolo said with a frown. “But… bandaids are okay.”

Nunnally laughed and laughed at him, and was still giggling by the time Lelouch and Suzaku came back, without red bandaids, but with normal coloured bandaids and red markers instead. 

“They have ones with sparkles and unicorns, or superheroes,” Lelouch said with exasperation, coloring in the bandaid after he wrapped it carefully around Nunnally’s finger, the little princess’s eyes wide with glee. “But apparently the staff’s never been asked for a _red_ bandaid before.”

“You too, you too!” Nunnally insisted as Lelouch was done, wiggling her fingers impatiently and smearing some of the ink onto her skin. 

“I don’t have a cut,” he told her, “and we shouldn’t waste things like that.”

Eventually, though, as usual, Nunnally got her way in the end, and all four of them were wearing hastily coloured bandaids on their pinkies. 

Rolo put his own on the opposite hand, and shyly slipped his hand into Lelouch’s, widening his eyes in a manner he watched Nunnally pull many times when the older boy turned to give him an inquisitive look. He could feel the stiff material of the bandaid against his palm, and wondered if some of the red would smear there against his hand as well, and whether he’d leave a red marker stain on Lelouch’s fingers. 

A mark. Easily washed away, but a mark nevertheless. 

He stayed attached to the prince as Lelouch made his rounds, followed closely by Suzaku, talking to tutors and siblings, most of whom gave Rolo a wary look until they came across the Second Prince, who only looked amused to see his younger brother with a little boy attached to his hand. 

“You appear to have picked up an attachment,” Prince Schneizel said, and Lelouch only sighed once more in exasperation, although he made no motion of shaking Rolo off. 

“...It happens.” The younger prince admitted, and Schneizel laughed and reached out with an affectionate touch for his little brother even as Rolo looked on with wonder.

Nunnally also insisted on teaching Rolo Japanese, bringing it up when her pinky was still taped over in red. 

“It’s almost like a secret language,” she professed, whispered like a secret from across a large table she used for studying. “Since no one else in Pendragon can be bothered to learn it.”

They started with basic words, although Nunnally admitted that her pronounciation was probably atrocious. Names of objects. People. Things. Places. She hadn’t managed to get very much practice in for grammar and how a girl was supposed to speak, or things like that, but she could understand things perfectly fine. 

“Suzaku doesn’t like speaking Japanese in Pendragon,” she sulked a little bit, “and Lelouch doesn’t really have time to give Japanese lessons.”

There was one thing that caught Rolo’s eyes, though, and his finger circled on the words for _family_ and _brother_ and _sister_. 

“This,” he told her, and watched her smile blossom, “how do you say this?”

They went from those words onto other keywords, until Lelouch was back from lessons and he joined them, connecting their string of words together for more coherency, writing down symbols on their books with more fluency than Nunnally, although he admitted, “Suzaku’s much, much better at this, but he doesn’t like participating in Japanese lessons. He doesn’t mind us knowing, though.”

And true to that, Suzaku seemed to have disappeared during their impromptu lesson. 

“It’s always good to have another language to communicate in,” Lelouch told them, which both Nunnally and Rolo soaked up easily. “Preferably more than one. That will help you communicate in methods that will be beyond what other people understand.” He tapped the back of his pen, heavy and smooth, onto the book he was writing in. “The more languages you know, the higher the chance you’ll be able to communicate information past enemies. Or at the very least, be able to gossip about people in court without them finding out what you’re saying.”

“And that’s the most important part!” Nunnally put in cheerfully. 

Rolo didn’t know why they bothered, since the majority of Court seemed too dull to pick on even on their natural language. But if Lelouch was willing to teach them, then he was willing to at least sit and try and figure out the hand-written worksheets, even if Nunnally complained that those worksheets were harder than anything the tutors gave them. 

— 

“It’s fencing practice,” Nunnally told him, dressed in a strangely bulky white suit with what looked like a cage pulled up over her head. She seemed to take in his incredulous expression and laughed, her hair out of its normal twin tails style, pulled into a short braid that went over her shoulder. “Lelouch isn’t here, if you’re looking for him. He always skips out on these. I think the instructor’s just given up on him.”

Rolo eyed the foil she was holding, thin and blunt with a knob at the end to prevent people from actually hurting each other, and wondered how training with something like that could possibly help if the students didn’t understand just how sharp blades were meant to be. 

“I brought…” he trailed off, not knowing how to explain he had found a book in the library he wanted Lelouch to read, hoping the older boy would sit down with them like before to tell them a story. Instead, he couldn’t help having his attention drawn to Nunnally instead. “Can you even use that?”

She didn’t take offense, instead laughing at him as she tossed her foil over to him, with Rolo catching it clumsily, and turned to walk further into the room, grabbing another one from a selection on the wall, and swinging it downward quickly enough that Rolo could hear the metal cut through the air, before she turned back to him and smiled. 

“Why don’t you find out?”

— 

When Rolo finally found Lelouch again, the older boy was playing chess against a young man, blond, dressed in the normal silks and prestige of royalty, who looked stressed and frustrated while Lelouch himself looked nearly bored out of his mind. 

Rolo slipped into the grand room the two were playing in, noting the number of guards outside who gave him narrowed eyed looks before letting him pass, and Suzaku in the room with them, so quiet and still he almost blended into the background. 

“Check,” Lelouch drawled lazily, chin in his hand as he moved a black piece on the board. The room was much darker than the bright and bare room Nunnally had been practicing in, with heavy curtains drawn across windows that let in bright beams of sunlight to contrast against the warm dark woods and illuminating sparkles of dust motes in the air, casting long shadows against ornate furniture. 

“A-ahh,” the blond responded, swallowed, and said, “that’s cruel, Lelouch!”

“Checkmate in three,” Lelouch continued, obviously bored. He was already gazing out the window, attention obviously not on the board in front of him. “You’re using the same strategy as last time, Clovis, and it’s a terrible one.”

The other— Clovis— just sighed dramatically as he seemed to consider the board intensely. “Yes, yes. I’m not cut out for chess. Both you and Schneizel have said.”

“I don’t know why you continue with this, then,” Lelouch told him. “You have other talents.”

“Kind of you to say,” Clovis responded, still concentrating on the board, “maybe I’m just trying to spend more time with my little brother.”

“Or maybe you’re hiding from one of the ladies at court,” Lelouch surmised. 

“Always so cruel,” Clovis chided. 

“I’m right, aren’t I,” Lelouch said, tone dry, waiting for his older brother to make the next move. “What did you do now?”

“I am currently,” the young man said, sniffling indignantly and moving a piece on the chess board, “attempting to improve my chess skills. I don’t know what you’re insinuating. Besides, you’re too young to know about the court ladies.”

“I’m fourteen this year,” Lelouch told him, moving one of his pieces immediately in response. “Not stupid. Checkmate.”

Clovis looked aghast. “I thought you said three moves!”

“Yes, if you played _well_. Then it would be three moves at most.”

Clovis slumped and rubbed at his face dramatically, although the movements felt almost mechanical and practiced, “Ahh, you’re too good at this. You’ll be beating Schneizel soon as well!”

“He refuses to play me now,” Lelouch sulked, “keeps saying he doesn’t have the time.”

“I’m making time for you,” Clovis told him, and reached across the board to pat Lelouch on the head, which made the boy scowl. “Because you’re my precious little brother!”

“Because you’re in trouble with someone else and you’re using me to hide,” Lelouch corrected dryly.

“Why do you always have such a low opinion of me?” Clovis lamented, although he didn’t bother to deny the statements. “Haven’t I always chosen to spend time with you and Nunnally when I could? I’m doing my best as your big brother here, Lelouch, you should at least try to see that.”

“No,” Lelouch told him evenly, but seemed to be hiding a smile as Clovis wilted dramatically. 

“So cruel,” the older prince repeated, “where did my cute little brother go? Is it puberty? Is that it?”

That seemed to crack Lelouch’s composure as he sputtered, and even Suzaku snorted quietly with amusement from where he was standing. 

“ _Clovis_.” Lelouch exclaimed, voiced pitchy as he flushed with embarrassment. “That’s—!” 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Clovis lamented, managing to sound so very sad about it throughout Lelouch’s incoherent protests. “I suppose it falls up to me, then, to teach you all about the joys of—” 

“It does _not_ ,” Lelouch interrupted him loudly, voice at a near shriek, “seeing as none of this is any of your business!”

“Of course it is,” Clovis insisted, “seeing as it’s not like Father can take the time out of his busy schedule… Odysseus has far too many concerns as the First Prince, and Schneizel is busy climbing the ranks of the Empire. As Third Prince, I take the care of my younger siblings very seriously, as there is so much I can teach you—” 

As if saved by a higher power, a knock on the door interrupted Clovis’s statement, and one of his royal guards stuck his head inside politely, eyes lowered in deference. 

“Your Highness,” the guard said, tone urgent, “Lady Stratton was just seen in the southern wing,”

“Oh, that must be my cue for departure,” Clovis said dramatically, which only seemed to irritate Lelouch more, “I’m have to reminisce with you more after my affairs are in order, baby brother—” 

“I’m going to tell her exactly where you are,” Lelouch told him, tone deceptively sweet, “and about all your other little ‘affairs’, and then we’ll see if you can ‘take time’ for your younger siblings when you’ve got at least half a dozen court ladies—” 

“And this is where I bid you adieu,” Clovis interrupted him quickly, giving a nervous laugh as he stood from his seat quickly to follow the royal guard out the door, “it was good to spend time with you Lelouch, don’t grow up too fast, alright? I turn my head and it’s like you and Nunnally have both sprung up like a weed!”

“We’re not weeds!” Lelouch called out with annoyance, but all emotion seemed to drop as the door closed behind Clovis and his guards, and he leaned back into his seat with an eerily blank expression as he picked up the black king chess piece and studied it. “...Still think I’m being paranoid, Suzaku?”

His knight only seemed to tense at the question. 

“Rolo,” Lelouch called out, and Rolo stepped forward eagerly, setting the library book down on the table. The prince threw him a small device, and Rolo managed to catch it; the heft of the object, no bigger than a deck of cards, a surprising weight in his hands. “I want you to track where he goes. Suzaku, Earl Asplund works with General Bartley, does he not?”

“He does on occasion,” Suzaku confirmed, sounding weary, “Although Bartley hates working with Lloyd, so it doesn’t happen often.”

Lelouch tapped a finger on the hand holding the black king against the armrest of his chair, the other coming up to rest under his chin as he smiled darkly, “It’ll happen again. I’d say… within the next three days. I need you to gain access to Bartley’s computers. He’s working with Clovis, and they’re hiding something, I know it, or else he wouldn’t have been here today asking me these questions about _Liedmeisters_.”

“But he was asking—?” 

“Specifically about Schneizel, Cornelia, and myself. He even brought up Carine and Marybell. Clovis is many things, but subtle he is not. I want to know what he’s after, and what exactly the project between him and General Bartley entails.”

He was frowning, violet eyes glaring down at the chess game he just won. 

“This family has too many secrets, and the majority of them involve more than the figurative skeletons in the closet. Clovis and Schneizel are both up to something lately, and I want to know what it is.” Lelouch brought the king piece up to his lips, and smiled. “I intend to find out.”

Originally, Rolo thought, he was going to tell Lelouch just how scary he thought Nunnally actually was, with her lightning fast reflexes and the snap of her foil against his torso, her feet light and playing out a complicated dance as she shouted instructions at him all the meanwhile. He thought that if she ever decided she wanted people dead, rather than to try and change them for the better, she would be a real force to be reckoned with. 

Now, he wondered if he pegged the wrong sibling as the frightening one. Rolo might not understand about the court politics or why people acted the way they did, but Lelouch certainly did, and knew exactly what people were hiding and how to get what he wanted.

— 

“Rolo,” Nunnally woke him up one morning, his stays with the vi Britannias increasing in frequency until it was more common for Rolo to be with them than anywhere else, and he opened his eyes to the guest suite of the Aries Villa, Nunnally still in pajamas and her hair falling out form the plaits she slept in, a large pair of wire framed glasses sliding down her nose. “Wake up, Rolo.”

She was unusually somber for the morning, without a smile, and Rolo woke immediately. 

“Is there an intruder?” He asked urgently, sitting up and reaching underneath his pillow to pull out the gun he kept there just in case before he swung his legs out of the bed. 

“No, silly,” Nunnally told him, his actions making her smile just slightly. “But it’s just as important. I have a very important question to ask you.”

Rolo stared blankly at her. “What?”

“It’s sudden,” the little girl told him, “but will you be my knight?”

“What?” Rolo echoed. 

Nunnally sat next to him on the bed, and swung her legs as she explained, “We just found out. Lelouch’s going to be sent away soon, and I might not be able to go with him if I don’t— have a knight with me. This way, we can both go with him! And I’ve been thinking about it for a while, anyway, because this is a way you can stay with us, and no one can take you away from us.”

“I’m not like Suzaku,” Rolo told her carefully. He frowned. “I don’t know the rules.”

“I can teach you!” Nunnally insisted, and then amended, “We all can! But it doesn’t matter, because if you say yes, then they can’t take you away from us, even if you don’t know the rules.”

That didn’t sound right, but the idea of it was appealing. 

“It’s really sudden, I know,” Nunnally told him, lifting her legs up to kick at the air as she gripped the edge of the bed for balance, “but this news was really sudden, too. Lelouch doesn’t know I overheard him, so I’m asking you first. Please?”

“Why me?” He asked, and then rubbed the sleep dust from his eyes. As the urgency of the situation wore off, so did his alertness. “I wouldn’t make a good knight.”

“Because,” Nunnally told him knowledgeably, “it’s not about who makes a good knight— those things can be taught! It’s about who you trust. And I trust you. You _get_ it.”

Rolo thought about his mission, and the amount of people he’s killed, and he shook his head. He didn’t get it— didn’t understand Nunnally at all, or even Lelouch. He couldn’t help but be drawn to them, but he couldn’t actually understand them. 

“You get it,” Nunnally insisted, and nudged him lightly, “I know you don’t think so, but you do. I mean— I woke you up and the first thing you asked was if there was an intruder. The first thing you did was take out a weapon. Rolo, you’d make a great knight.”

Speaking of which, Rolo let the gun drop back onto the bed again, slightly irritated with himself. 

“And you get it,” Nunnally continued, “because I know you want to stay with us, too.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. 

“Say yes,” Nunnally pleaded, “and I can take care of you. We’ll go with Lelouch and Suzaku, and we’ll stay together. Like a family.”

“Why is this so important?” He asked. “Why can’t we just go with them, anyway?”

“It’s important,” Nunnally said. “It just is. When you’re a Knight of Honor, you’re— connected? I guess? That’s what I heard, anyway. You’re connected to your prince or princess. So you always know where they are, in case they need help. That’s actually why some people choose not to have a knight of honor, because it’s too personal, so they go with royal guards instead— I don’t know how it works, but it means that no one can take you away, because there’s a bond, and no one else can break that bond.”

Rolo wasn’t sure he wanted to be _bonded_. 

“The only way to break it,” Nunnally said, “is if you break your promise. Renege your vow. If either of us wanted the bond to break, then we can break it. Otherwise, no one else can. That’s how the bond works. I can keep you safe, and you protect me. And together, they can’t force us apart. That’s how Lelouch keeps Suzaku safe— no one can question his place in Court, no matter what bad things they say about him.”

“So you keep us safe from Court?” Rolo asked dubiously, and Nunnally shrugged. 

“I guess so? It’s all from some really old historical rituals or something. But there’s more to it with _Liedmeisters_ , too. Like… the knights get strength or immunities. It’s a lifetime thing. So long as you don’t renege your vow, then we’ll be connected for life.”

“...What happens if I do?” Rolo asked, and Nunnally squirmed. 

“Then we can’t— I don’t know. You can’t make the same vow to the same person again. I mean, there’s been a few times when that’s happened? When both parties talk it out and then break the bond, but that’s usually a last resort thing. Like divorce, I guess? They tend not to talk to each other anymore after that, anyway.”

“Maybe we should ask Lelouch,” Rolo suggested, because that seemed like the best plan. Lelouch would know what to do. Lelouch always knew what to do.

Nunnally only sighed at him, but smiled. “I knew you’d say that,” she said, “but that’s okay. I get that, too. We really do understand each other really well, Rolo.”

— 

Pendragon was the city of social events, mostly because it housed the majority of the royal family year-round, but also because of the nobles who come to visit and pay tribute or curry favor, involving themselves as much as possible in the affairs of law-making and, what it felt like to Rolo, back-stabbing. 

He would rather do that in a more literal matter, the methods in which the court tended to smile slyly behind hands and say one thing but mean another often confusing him in a way that made him angry. 

“Don’t listen to any of them, then,” Nunnally advised him, adjusting the collar to his new Knight of Honor uniform. “I’ll take care of the verbal aspects. You just stand there and look scary, and we’ll get cakes after.”

“Not today,” Lelouch told them from where he was getting ready as well, frown prominent enough that he could be heard in his voice as he adjusted his cravat. “It’s too late for sweets already.”

“Take us tomorrow, then?” Nunnally asked her brother, and Lelouch responded with a distracted affirmative. 

“They hate me,” Rolo lamented, letting himself be manhandled by his princess, and turning to give Lelouch a pleading look. “Do I have to go?”

Asking questions like that was still new to him, but little things such as asking for things he didn’t absolutely need or complaining about small things, made both Lelouch and Nunnally smile at him, and as the months went on, Rolo learned to be a bit more indulgent with his requests. 

“I’m sorry, Rolo,” the prince told him, genuinely apologetic. “But as the Emperor will be attending this one, all of us are expected to put in an appearance. It won’t be long before we’re gone from Pendragon, after all.”

Wouldn’t be long, because Lelouch had been assigned to the war in Europia, which was also why they expedited Rolo’s knighting ceremony so that Nunnally would have someone to protect her and therefore she would be allowed to go with her brother. 

There was a loud knock on the door, twice, before a pause and two softer knocks, and then Suzaku opened the heavy oak doors and stuck his head inside. 

“We’re all ready,” the older knight said, dressed in the same uniform that Rolo was, the white and gold looking far more fitting on him, even if his hair was still messy and he was grinning at them boyishly. “Guinevere won’t know what hit her.”

“Guin—? Lelouch!” Nunnally scolded, although she couldn’t seem to hide her smile. “Did you do something to her dress?”

“Me? To Guinevere? Why would I do anything at all to her?” Lelouch asked innocently, as he turned to gesture at Suzaku, who already entered the room and closed the door behind them. “I would never do anything to her and the precious dress she’s been bragging about for the past _three months_. The one that she managed to spend half a year’s allocated budget on. The one made of Damascan silks that aren’t supposed to be exported from that country, and would definitely be a cultural violation on her part.”

Nunnally was struggling to frown, trying her best to look stern even as her lips twitched upward. 

“If anyone ever asks you about it,” Lelouch told her, “you can say I absolutely denied it. And that I was here the whole time. And obviously, since Suzaku is my knight, he is always in my vicinity even if I don’t exactly track him all the time.”

“You’re an awful role model,” she told him, and then stepped over to kiss him on the cheek, beaming at him, “and a wonderful one. Just tell me it’s something that won’t physically or psychologically scar her, but will hopefully stop her from doing something like this again?”

“That’s the plan,” Lelouch said with a smile. 

As both Lelouch and Nunnally continued to chat and laugh, and Suzaku made his way over to stand by Lelouch’s side and add in his commentary from time to time, making the siblings burst into laughter more than once, Rolo felt… a little out of place. 

Even if the uniform had been tailored just for him, it felt ill-fitted somehow, like it wasn’t sitting right on his person no matter what he did. The weight of a sword at his hip, shortened for account of his current stature, although he had been assured a larger version was waiting for him, felt wrong. 

The vi Britannias looked— bright. Suzaku, too. Bright and cheerful and warm, and even if Rolo was now dressed in the same colors they were, given the same privileges they were, he was… 

Lost. 

He wanted to join them, should have the right to join them, but he hesitated nevertheless, because he didn’t feel like he could join them. Maybe that he didn’t deserve to. He didn’t like that feeling at all. He never wondered if he _deserved_ anything before. Rolo had only ever been either good or bad at something, and whatever he was bad at, he was told to amend. 

But Nunnally was soon looking at him with wide eyes, and Lelouch extended a hand to prompt Rolo over, and he found that he couldn’t resist. 

“Don’t worry, Rolo,” Nunnally told him after she managed to grab onto his hand, her smile brighter than anything he had seen before, “we’ll be here with you the whole thing. It doesn’t matter what the court says, you’re going to be okay.”

“And if someone says something super awful,” Suzaku added with a small smile, caught up in the moment, “then we’ll figure out something to make them regret it!”

The older knight raised a fist to cheer and Lelouch just laughed at him, even if Nunnally tried to tell him that they shouldn’t do things like that, not anymore, weren’t they too old for pranks by now?

“No matter what anyone says at the party,” Lelouch told him warmly, “you’ll always have a place with us. That’s what it means to be a Knight of Honor. Don’t forget that. No one can take you away from us; no one but yourself.”

Rolo flushed with pleasure, ducking his head even as Nunnally gasped and threw her arms around him, voice going a pitchy squeak about how adorable he was and how much she loved him.

He would never renege being Nunnally’s Knight of Honor. Not ever. 

— 

Nunnally had been right: no matter how much the Pendragon court hated the idea of Rolo becoming a knight, they couldn’t prevent him from doing so. They were sent, along with Lelouch and Suzaku, towards Europia United, where they stayed for nearly two years and Rolo… 

He learned a great many things.

The first time Rolo fights for Lelouch and Nunnally after being appointed as a Knight of Honor, he noticed something— different. 

Very different. 

Knights of honor gained certain... abilities, that much he knew about. They were faster and stronger in general, although that was arguably a placebo effect of some kind, seeing as most knights were already the best of the best trained to be even _better_ , and Rolo himself had extensive experience with killing from a very young age. 

Yet…

As the blood pooled against the soles of his shoes and he stared down uncomprehendingly at it, hearing Nunnally gasp behind him as the assassin dropped to the ground, it was Lelouch who pulled Rolo away by the wrist, who hissed commands at Suzaku to take care of the situation. Rolo hadn’t expected any different— of course Lelouch would take control of the situation. He always had control of the situation. 

“But Suzaku hasn’t—” Nunnally said, voice hushed and worried, even as Lelouch hissed a commanding “ _Nunnally_ ,” at her that shushed her. 

The three of them ended up in a tiny room, more a utility closet than anything else, sparse as the rest of the newly built compound, before Rolo finally looked up to wonder at the fact that Suzaku wasn’t there at the moment, dogging their every step. 

He waited for Lelouch to say something, sure that the older boy would, but it seemed that both the vi Britannias were waiting on his reaction, with Nunnally wringing her hands in worry and Lelouch staring with a carefully blank face. 

“I—” He could make sense of it. But… he could. “He tried to take Nunnally.”

“Yes.” Lelouch told him evenly. 

“I stopped him.” Rolo said. 

“You did.”

Rolo stared down at his hands, clean from blood, and felt like he cheated somehow. “He just stood there. Like he was frozen to the ground.”

“What?” Nunnally exclaimed, “but he was moving so fast!”

Rolo stared at her uncomprehendingly. 

“You look like you just— teleported,” Nunnally provided, tone shaken.

“What did you see?” Lelouch asked him instead, calm. The older boy’s eyes were almost luminescent with how focused he was. “Was it just him frozen?”

Nunnally made an inquiring noise as she turned her attention to Rolo as well. 

“I don’t— I don’t know.”

It had been mere moments, fractions of a second, as Rolo reacted near instinctively to the threat with speed he hadn’t known he had. Yet he was familiar enough with the way a person reacts to threats against their lives, to their own deaths, to know there had been something _wrong_ with the situation. 

People didn’t normally freeze in place when they were stabbed, not moving even their eyes. 

It was the first threat against Nunnally that Rolo ever dealt with on such a level. 

“Rolo,” and this time, Lelouch leaned down just slightly, drawing Rolo’s attention up to him, even as thin fingers gripped carefully at his shoulders to keep his attention, “you did well.”

He darted his gaze between Lelouch and Nunnally, and nodded, feeling more sure of himself again. Yes. He did promise that he would protect Nunnally, and he didn’t feel bad for killing the man. Rolo had killed for far less a reason before, and dealt with many more difficult situations. 

It took Nunnally a moment to react, but she nodded as well, even if her movements were a bit jerky and stiff, her tone a bit strangled by what she just witnessed, “...Thank you for protecting me.”

“I’ll always protect you,” he said, the words like a wave of calm as he glanced between the siblings. Yes, that was true. He would always protect the both of them. No matter what.

“If something like this happens again,” Lelouch said, “and it looks like someone is frozen in place… tell me. We’ll figure this out together.”

It took Rolo a moment to realize that this _was_ going to happen again: someone targeting Nunnally with intent to take or kill her, and it would be his job to prevent that. 

“I’m counting on you,” Lelouch told him softly, and Rolo felt himself standing up straighter. 

“I won’t let you down, big brother,” he said, the weight of this responsibility settling on him like a warm blanket across his shoulders.

— 

The first time he sees C.C., the sense of _danger_ she evokes was so strong that he immediately attempted to kill her, despite his perfectly stable streak of time having ‘recovered’ from reactions like that. 

He tries, of course, to be subtle about it, palming one of the multiple syringes he kept on his person at all times, thumbing off the cap as they were introduced and setting the needle securely between his index and middle fingers to feel his best aim and prevent the most amount of… accidents, before slipping it halfway into his sleeve and extending a hand for her to shake.

She catches his hand mid-way by his wrist and grips hard enough that Rolo snarls at her, yanking his hand up to expose the needle. 

It was one of the few times he hated his own youth and size, which might allow him to be wily, but ensured he was easily overpowered should his target know to anticipate his actions. 

“Not bad,” the witch drawled out with a cold smile, “but you do know it wouldn’t keep me down for long, don’t you?”

“All I need is a minute.” He told her, pushing down at his anger to school his expression into something cooler. 

She turns her expression to Lelouch, and Rolo seethes. 

“Cute kid,” she said, amused. “You do know this one’s dangerous, right?”

“Let him go, C.C.,” Lelouch says, exasperated, and adds, “She’s not a threat, Rolo. She’s here to help.”

Rolo shakes off her grip and backs up a step, although he keeps a wary eye on the witch, the feeling at the back of his neck still screaming _danger_. When she merely watches him with amused amber eyes, Rolo retreats next to Lelouch’s side and scowls deeply at her. 

It was a warm hand on his hair that finally broke his glare, and Rolo looked up with an adoring smile at his brother, recapping his syringe to slip back on the holster on his belt loop and leaning into the touch. 

“What’s your little sister’s guard dog doing here?” C.C. asked, sitting down at the table in front of Lelouch, her movements sinuous and cat-like as she gave a sly smile and rested her chin on her knuckles. “Playing a little musical chairs with your knights today?”

“Nunnally is protective,” Lelouch said with fond amusement, “and she planned an outing with Suzaku today. Something about a lost bet and how he owed her ice cream.”

“And you’re not with them? Shame.”

“It’s your fault.” The prince told her, although there was no bite to his words. “You chose the time and place.”

“And you’ve told _this one_ about the nature of our meetings?” C.C. asked, tilting her head in Rolo’s direction. At Lelouch’s nonchalant shrug, she gave a wicked smile and cooed at Rolo, “Nothing about what we do together in our private time? Oh, child. Has anyone given you the talk regarding the birds and the bees yet? You look a little young—” 

“And that is _enough_ ,” Lelouch groused out, “lying from you.”

“I haven’t even started yet,” C.C. lamented, although she looked amused. “Prude.”

Her eyes glanced back at him, and Rolo bared his teeth in a threat display, unconcerned by Lelouch’s long-suffering sigh. 

“Feral child,” C.C. said, flicking her fingers at him. 

“Stop, the both of you,” Lelouch commanded, and then pulled back to say, “you said you’d teach me more about the Songs.”

“You seem to be doing well enough on your own,” C.C. praised, “I’ve heard stories about some impressive control. Control over an element you didn’t originally display a talent for. Zero, the great masked commander with impeccable control over the earth. Where’s that little boy who used to destroy flowers? Where did he go?”

“Never existed, according to you,” he told her, amusement ringing back to her. “Yet you claim to know much more on the subject than anyone else.”

“I’m very, very old,” C.C. said amiably. “When a subject has been lost to the ages, then the person you should find is the oldest you know.”

“The Songs haven’t been lost to the ages,” he said. 

She only smiled at him, and tapped a manicured finger on the laminate table between them, the sound dull in the enclosed room. 

“Oh,” she told him, “but your Song has, hasn’t it? Should you be asking for such information in front of this one, now?”

“Rolo is family,” Lelouch said easily, and Rolo felt his chest warm with pride as he sat up just the slightest bit straighter at the praise. 

“Yet I warned your mother to tell no one, not even her own dear husband.” C.C. mused. “Your newest little family member is hiding quite the secrets.”

“So are we.” Lelouch said, and that seemed to be that as C.C. shrugged and replied with a quiet ‘fair enough’. 

They spoke for another twenty minutes, with Rolo only attempting just one more time to discreetly take C.C. out even as she smiled eerily (knowingly) at him.

— 

Rolo sat carefully through separate music lessons as Nunnally patiently hummed out songs not on the syllabus, writing down the sheet music for him each lesson and burning them at the end so that there were no physical copies left behind. 

He was thirteen and he was learning that his enemies freezing on the spot in a fight was not going to be an unusual circumstance for him, and that he should never speak of it with anyone other than Nunnally, Lelouch, and Suzaku. 

It only ever happened a few moments at a time— seconds, at most, and it wasn’t something he had full control over yet. Those moments made him falter as well; tired him out like nothing else did, shortening his breath and leaving his limbs shaking. 

But it was still an advantage exclusive only to him. 

“Don’t tell anybody else,” Lelouch told him carefully, “it’s a secret between the four of us.”

The words somehow made Rolo sit up with pride. 

The songs, his ability, and hushed secrets in the dark. They were as comforting as an umbrella over his head on a rainy day, and as soft as a age-worn handkerchief. 

— 

Originally, Rolo was sneaking around mostly because he told Nunnally that he would busy that day, but he planned to take the time to hopefully find Lelouch for some help to help plan out a surprise birthday party for Nunnally, even if that party would apply for himself as well since she insisted on sharing her birthday with him. 

He had a few plans, a few themes in mind that Rolo thought Nunnally would enjoy for her fourteenth birthday, but he wanted to get ideas from Lelouch as well, and they had less than a month to prepare, which would be difficult especially if Nunnally suspected anything, since she was always either with Rolo or Lelouch or the both of them. 

He heard the music before he found Lelouch, which wasn’t unusual. Pendragon, and even the Black Knight base, didn’t often have perfectly sealed rooms, although the doors were always thick and sturdy enough to cover most of the sounds into dim background noise, and the vi Britannia wing of the palace was the same. The grand piano and harp in the main area was by a corner of the stately room, exposed under large french windows the led out to the gardens, with thick dark curtains pulled back and tied off for a more opulent and comfortable look. 

He heard the piano before anything else, and smiled to himself as he entered the room quietly, hoping to listen for a while. Yet it was the strum of a guitar that had him quieting more. 

Lelouch was sitting at the seat of the grand piano, under the fall of sunlight with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up almost to his elbow, the top buttons of the shirt undone to accommodate the warmth of the late summer weather, fingers rolling across the keys fluidly as he moved with the music, eyes closed. 

Behind him, pressed back to back, was Suzaku, dressed casually in a white t-shirt and loose dress pants rolled up to expose bare feet and ankles as he sat cross-legged with his dark, polished acoustic guitar on his lap, strumming and tapping out a rhythm both as the piano music accompanied him easily until the beat changed to something faster and heavier, the previous lingering notes switching into something that sounded like an altogether different song, and although Rolo couldn’t see’s Suzaku’s expression, he could make out Lelouch’s smile as they continued to keep pace in the song. 

He waited until the end of the song, not sure if he could disturb them, until the last notes of the piano faded and then Suzaku gave a quiet and breathy laugh before he twisted his torso around his guitar and Lelouch turned his head as well to say something quiet, inaudible, smiling. 

Then Suzaku said something in response and leaned his forehead against Lelouch’s temple, brown hair mixing with black under the fall of sunlight into the room, eyes sliding closed with a smile as his nose brushed against Lelouch’s cheek, and Rolo decided that he would have to— ask about the surprise party another time. 

He stopped looking then, and made his way out of the room as stealthily as possible, closing the door silently behind him. 

— 

He never… _noticed_ it before, but with that scene in mind, Rolo started to see it more and more. 

It was almost disconcerting, now that he saw it, the way Lelouch’s hand would linger, or the way Suzaku stood just a half step too close for knightly propriety. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder most of the time, usually with their heads bent together as if conspiring something, resulting in one or both of them laughing quietly under their breath. 

How long had he just— not noticed? It couldn’t have been from the beginning. When Rolo was first studying to be a knight, he took after Suzaku’s every example. Suzaku was the very image of a perfect knight back then, not a single hint of impropriety, likely because it wasn’t allowed from him in any way, with all eyes at court scrutinizing him for every tiny mistake, eager to disprove anyone non-Britannian as a Knight of Honor.

Although he was still the very image of a perfect knight now, that textbook perfect— everything, was gone. Had it been only five years ago, Rolo was sure that the court would have called Suzaku out on every single mistake… yet in that time, people seem to have gotten accustomed to his presence and instead now dismissed him rather than look for his flaws. 

His hand lingered too long on Lelouch’s elbow most of the time, and his eyes lingered on the prince rather than on his surroundings to look for threats. 

It was almost three days before Rolo couldn’t take it anymore. 

“What are you doing?” He hissed at Suzaku, having pulled the other knight away from the siblings after dinner with Euphemia and her new knight Gino Weinberg. Even then, Suzaku was hardly paying attention to him, instead glancing far too frequently towards Lelouch. 

“What are you talking about?” Suzaku asked him, genuinely curious, and he was still _ignoring_ Rolo somehow even though they were conversing. 

In one swift motion, Rolo slipped out the blade he kept hidden in his sleeve and swiped upward towards Suzaku’s jugular. 

Immediately, the older boy’s casual posture changed, catching Rolo’s wrist not three inches away from his throat. 

“What,” Suzaku hissed, attention suddenly focused entirely on him, the hand holding his wrist tightening until Rolo could feel the bones of his wrist grind together unpleasantly, “the _hell_ , Rolo?”

“What if you were further away?” Rolo challenged, ignoring the pain in his wrist, “What if someone pulled a knife on Lelouch or Nunnally? What if someone pulled a _gun_? Your reflexes used to be faster than this. What if something happened to them because you’re distracted?”

“No one would get that close,” Suzaku growled at him, pulling Rolo’s knife away before he let go of the smaller boy’s wrist. Rolo matched his glare, and lowered his arm without asking for the knife back, shaking his hand just once to dispel the pain and knowing that he would have bruises from this later. 

“Yes, because it’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Rolo told him with a frown. “Do your _job_ , Sir Kururugi.”

He hadn’t called Suzaku by surname in years, but Rolo didn’t stay around to see his reaction as he turned on his heel and left back toward the room where Lelouch and Nunnally where chatting comfortably on the couch, and he very pointedly dropped heavily onto the seat on Lelouch’s other side, where Suzaku would normally sit, and shifted his way under Lelouch’s arm until his brother took the hint and settled the arm around Rolo’s back. 

“Anything wrong?” Nunnally asked him, and Rolo just shook his head. They knew him well enough not to question it outside of that, and Suzaku sat next to Nunnally instead when he came back. 

Rolo very pointedly did not look at him the rest of the evening.

— 

He spent the next week glued to Lelouch’s side whenever he could, slipping between Lelouch and Suzaku as innocently as he could manage, and clinging to his brother’s wrist whenever he could. Lelouch must have caught on easily enough, as he only shook his head fondly whenever Rolo clung to him, and slipped fingers through Rolo’s hair comfortingly for a few seconds before he declared Rolo getting to be too old for this. 

“Not yet,” Rolo said, an echo of what Nunnally would normally say in response when Lelouch tried to tell her that she had to grow out of a habit, and like with Nunnally, Lelouch would relent. 

“Rolo,” Nunnally questioned one day after her fencing practice, having been following him around lately instead of the other way around. She seemed hesitant to ask, “Are you _sure_ you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” he told her distractedly, even as he dogged Lelouch and Suzaku’s footsteps from twenty feet behind them. He would just have to keep an eye out for danger for both Nunnally _and_ Lelouch both until Suzaku came to his senses again, and even if it was twice the work, Rolo would do it to keep his family safe. 

“You seem…” Nunnally made a humming noise, “stressed.”

He didn’t bring himself to acknowledge that, knowing that Nunnally would manage to dig out why if he kept responding. 

“Is this about Lelouch and Suzaku dating?” She asked him bluntly, and Rolo stopped mid-step, nearly stumbling. 

“What?” He asked flatly.

“It _is_ ,” Nunnally confirmed just from that reaction, and she flitted around him, tilting her body sideways until her hair fell nearly perpendicular to the ground, to peer at up at him from below. “Do you disapprove? Wait, are you _third wheeling_? Are _we_ third wheeling right now?”

“I’m—” Rolo couldn’t help his frown, “I’m making sure Sir Kururugi stays alert!”

“Rolo,” Nunnally told him seriously, “I really don’t think Suzaku can be any _more_ alert around Lelouch. I think his heart would give out. Or it’d start to get a little creepy, and I don’t want it to get creepy. Also, if we’re meant to be spying on them, then we might a little too close behind them.”

She was smiling when he looked at her, which made Rolo feel a little better. 

“You’re not surprised,” he observed a little belatedly. 

“Well, no,” she said easily, and straightened up again, grabbing onto his hand easily. “Haven’t you paid any attention to the way they sit on the couch? ...And I helped Lelouch practice his speech to ask Suzaku to be his knight. Actually, thinking back on it, what I wanted was really overkill and wouldn’t have happened.”

He ignored that first and last part. “You’ve known… since before Suzaku was Lelouch’s knight?”

“I didn’t _know_ ,” Nunnally said, swinging their hands as they continued to follow behind the other two, “but I guess I did? Suzaku used to— bundle up Lelouch in his clothes, when we were kids. In the middle of _summer_. Before he was Lelouch’s knight. And he always looked so proud, too. It was a little strange to me back then, but I didn’t know how to ask about that. But I used to do this, too, you know.”

“This?” Rolo asked, although his tone was quiet as he allowed her to manhandle him around. 

“Yes.” Nunnally dropped his hand for a moment to clap her hands together, fingers pointed outward. “Interrupt them. I had a signature move, too!”

She pushed her arms out in front of her in a v-shape, and then separated her arms as if pushing something apart. She turned her head and smiled gently at him. 

“I used to always have to sit between them, or hold onto both their hands. I think it was because I was scared they would leave me behind and forget all about me if I didn’t do it. But they never left me behind, and they never forgot me. And Rolo… you’re going to be okay, too.”

Rolo was quiet as she took his hand again, and the two of them kept walking. 

“...I still think we should keep an eye on them,” he said reluctantly. 

“Alright,” Nunnally agreed genially, swinging their arms together lightly. “Then let’s keep following them.”

Rolo didn’t know what to say, but squeezed her hand in gratitude. He was sure she understood.

— 

Despite Nunnally’s reassurances, Rolo still found himself trailing Lelouch whenever possible, often borrowing her signature move to shove himself between Lelouch and Suzaku, demanding attention. 

“What is going on?” Lelouch would laugh, although he allowed Rolo’s clinginess. “Did I miss something?”

And Rolo would shake his head, staying quiet. 

He only got scolded when, during a music lesson, Lelouch and Suzaku had been playing together on the violin and cello, Rolo brought up trumpet to blow out a harsh, loud shriek close to Suzaku to make him jump. Their music tutor had yanked Rolo away by the ear at that point, by now unafraid of the rumors circulating around Rolo, and far more aggressive. 

Even Nunnally looked a little worried at that point, although she still smiled at him, and Rolo remembered a time when she hadn’t been fazed by blood splatters on his skin, either. 

Even when he couldn’t be obvious about following them, Rolo listened in where he could. 

“I think Rolo hates me,” Suzaku said a room away, sounding a little bewildered. Rolo only leaned heavier on the cup placed against the edge of the door. 

“I’m sure it’s just an adjustment period,” Lelouch reassured him, “he’s just at a difficult age. You remember.”

“We were really that difficult at his age?”

He could hear Lelouch laughing out an adamant, “ _Yes_.”

“I don’t remember being difficult,” Suzaku denied, which only made Lelouch laugh harder. “You were difficult enough for the both of us.”

There was a soft thump, which took Rolo a while to figure that it must have been a throw pillow. Now it was Suzaku laughing, and then a startled yelp from Lelouch. There was the sound of a tousle, and Rolo was tempted to charge in and stop them, except then a slightly out of breath Suzaku started speaking again. 

“You really think it’s a good idea to let him cling like that? He needs to look after Nunnally, after all.”

“Look after her?” Lelouch asked, amused, “She can just about take most of the knights in Pendragon on by herself at this point. Give her another four years and she’ll be picking fights with the Knight of Ten, and _winning_. I’m just glad Rolo has enough sense to keep her distracted most of the time.”

“...I’d rather her nowhere near Sir Bradley.”

“And I’d have her build a reputation enough that even the Knights of Rounds would hesitate before challenging her. Let her take out the small fry, and we’ll sabotage Sir Bradley if we have to. I’m glad that she’s found something she enjoys and excels at. Because let’s be honest— we were terrors at fifteen, I’m starting to understand why Schneizel got Sir Waldstein to send us away, and if we hadn’t had a war to focus our energies on—” 

Suzaku was laughing in the room, the sound slowly growing and drowning out Lelouch’s words until the prince’s tone raised in reprimand. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean _that_ —” 

_“Jeremiah’s face_ ,” Suzaku wheezed through his laughter, “you’re totally right, we were outright _terrors_ at fifteen—” 

“That was entirely your fault,” Lelouch countered, although the words sounded weak. 

“How— how was ‘destruction of the empire’s property’ my fault?” Suzaku asked, still laughing. “I can’t believe he came after me for that— like I’m to blame for the hickey on my neck, because _oh_ , yeah, that’s something I can easily do to myself—” 

“You said,” Lelouch’s tone was haughty, “you wouldn’t bring that up again!”

“—because I was representing _royalty_ , how dare my attention stray to some _harlot_ —” 

“Oh my god,” Lelouch said, sounding muffled and embarrassed. 

“—and as a _Knight of Honor_ , how dare I sully your reputation with imperfections like that because as your knight, my reputation and prestige was a part of the empire’s, so any blemishes on my person was a blemish on—” 

He cut off abruptly, bursting into laughter once again, and Rolo itched to charge his way into the room to find out what was going on. 

“I can not _believe_ ,” Lelouch rebutted, each word interspaced with a huff, “that you and Nunnally _recorded_ that!”

“I did no such thing!” Suzaku argued back, although the words were more breaths of laughter than anything else, “I just called you since Jeremiah demanded to know who was to blame for the _destruction of the empire’s property_ and Nunnally happened to record the whole thing!”

There was a soft thump and whack sound that Rolo was familiar enough with to identify as thrown pillows, because Nunnally liked to do the same thing, attempting to smother someone with a fluffy monstrosity whenever they started saying something she didn’t want to hear. Of course she would have learned that particular trick from Lelouch. 

Slowly, the laughter and sounds of thrown pillows died down, although Suzaku did snicker out one more, “I still can’t believe the look on Jeremiah’s _face_ …”

“ _You_ didn’t have to sit through his lecture later,” Lelouch groused out grumpily. “A full _three hour presentation_ on the wonders of teenage hormones that didn’t even make any sense because he tried to explain things with _cabbage patches_.”

That only seemed to set off Suzaku’s laughter again, and another round of attempted murder on Lelouch’s part. 

“Still,” Suzaku finally said several long minutes later when Rolo almost gave up on listening in, “I wouldn’t have traded that for the world. Embarrassment and all. It was all worth it.”

“Even being assigned latrine duty for two months?”

“...Not fun,” Suzaku admitted, “but you’re worth it.”

Things were quiet after that, although there were definitely sounds— words, possibly murmurs, although that wasn’t something that Rolo could make out, and he tried to press the cup harder against the wall, wondering what he was missing now. 

He didn’t _think_ he made any obvious noises, but the next thing he knew, the door was opened and he didn’t have the time to scramble away and pretend he was doing something else, before Suzaku was peering down at him with exasperation. 

“...Really, Rolo?” The older knight asked, but Rolo only glared weakly in defense. 

“Is Rolo out there?” he could hear Lelouch ask, and in one clear motion, Rolo stood grabbed onto Suzaku, pulling the older boy with surprising strength to yank him out of the room and run down the hallway with him, this time ignoring Lelouch’s curious tone fading behind them as they managed to round a corner and then towards a passageway normally meant for the maids. 

“Rolo, what the hell?” Suzaku asked, although he didn’t sound as alarmed as he should have, considering that Rolo had pulled a knife on him not too long ago. When Rolo looked back at him, he was… surprisingly calm. 

He just didn’t know what to ask, how to _ask._ Instead, Rolo stewed over the impossibly questions in his mind before asking Suzaku, “ _Why_?”

“Why what?” Suzaku asked him in return, patiently this time. Rolo wondered about what earlier conversations he must have missed, because Suzaku was normally not that patient with him. While they had never been antagonistic, the past several years proved that Suzaku trusted only the vi Britannia siblings like Rolo did, but in a different way— he made friends with palace guards and servants, with Princess Euphemia and with other knights who tolerated his presence, yet he kept his distance from them all the way. He kept his distance from Rolo most of the time, too, and Rolo did the same thing. They were both knights, and could trust each other to do his job, but… 

Somehow, Rolo just never quite saw eye-to-eye with Suzaku. 

“Why my brother?” Rolo demanded, sure that he sounded petulant, but unable to voice the question without that tone. He couldn’t even put into words why this was bothering him— he didn’t have Lelouch’s loquaciousness when it came to words, or even Nunnally’s sweet charm. He couldn’t understand his own frustration, even, because Rolo would have been okay with Suzaku choosing— _anyone_ else. Well, anyone outside of Nunnally, too. He wouldn’t have cared. 

(Or maybe he would have cared if Suzaku started diverting his attention to other people.)

But Lelouch and Nunnally were _his_ brother and sister. _His_. 

Suzaku’s smile was thin. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, actually.”

“It _is_.” Rolo insisted, fingers twitching towards his belt. It was a conscious effort not to draw any weapons, because his first instinct would always be to protect Lelouch and Nunnally, even if he didn’t know just _what_ he could possibly be protecting his brother from this time. “Why not— Princess Euphemia?”

That made far more sense. Half the palace knew and attempted to ignore Princess Euphemia’s crush, and they were amiable. They were all smiles when they spoke to each other, each time, _every_ time. And Rolo wouldn’t have cared if Suzaku suddenly announced that he was interested in Princess Euphemia. 

...Well. He wouldn’t have cared _before_. But it was too late now, and he thought that he’d be very angry indeed if something like that did happen, especially having heard what he just did. 

Suzaku only looked confused by the question. “...What does this have to do with Euphie?”

“Nothing.” Rolo said abruptly, and then shook his head, angry at himself for being unable to express his frustration with the situation. “Something? I don’t know! Nunnally said you’re not— slacking in your duty—” 

“I’m not,” Suzaku confirmed for him, expression falling to a careful neutrality again. 

“—but I don’t want you with Lelouch!” Rolo blurted out, his hands itching to shove at the bigger teen. He was far too aware that Suzaku was bigger and stronger, and even _faster_ , and there was little that Rolo could do to win a fight against him, and that knowledge was a bitter one. Rolo’s attacks were always meant to deal serious damage or death, and he couldn’t even do that now because he knew that Lelouch would be angry with him, maybe forever, if he did something like that to Suzaku. 

“Why can’t you just choose someone else?” Rolo demanded. 

Suzaku seemed to keep a careful eye on Rolo’s stance and his motions, but otherwise seemed rather unbothered by the conversation. “...That’s not how it works.”

“Why _not_?”

Suzaku leaned back against a wall, and ruffled his hair a bit, looking vaguely embarrassed. “It’s just not. I’m pretty sure you don’t get to choose things like this. I mean… would you choose people other than Lelouch and Nunnally?”

Rolo stared intently at him. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Suzaku said, and his eyes darted around to ensure that there was no one even remotely close to them, and that the hallway was entirely deserted. It was only the two of them for as far as they could either see or hear, and he continued very quietly anyway, “but I— love him. Really.”

Rolo didn’t say anything in response to that, still as tense as before, if not more so now.

“I’m still mad about how you tried to _kill me_ last week,” Suzaku told him, if only to bring the subject away from the previous topic, tone dark and irritated. “And now you’re _eavesdropping_?” 

It was a funny set of priorities, Rolo thought. Most people should have been glad that he went from murder attempt to eavesdropping, or at least that was what he assumed. 

“If I was actually trying to kill you,” Rolo told him blandly, although not without a frown, “I wouldn’t have done it in a way you would see.”

Suzaku narrowed his eyes. “...Good to know.”

“Or prevent,” Rolo added, because now that he thought about it, it was true. It would probably be best for him to set traps or poisons if it was a fight against Suzaku. 

“Yes, I’m getting that, Rolo.”

Rolo glared at the older knight, and then down at his feet, feeling— frustrated. There was a strange sense of urgency, of conflict and anxiety, that he hadn’t really— felt, before knowledge of the relationship. It was almost as if he didn’t know how to talk to Lelouch anymore, and he hated that. And it wasn’t… it wasn’t Lelouch’s _fault_ here, he knew that. The older teen hadn’t been behaving any differently at all around Rolo, so that meant there was something going on with _Rolo_ , and _he hated that_. 

Several seconds later, Suzaku let out an exaggerated sigh, “...you know, you should probably be talking to Lelouch about this, if you’re upset. I’m not— I doubt there’s anything I can say here to make you feel better.” 

He _should_ talk to Lelouch about it, he knew. Yet he couldn’t, not yet, not until he figured out what and why they needed to speak about— this subject. Whatever subject _this_ was. 

His hands clenched into fists before he forcibly tried to relax his fingers. 

“Do you know,” Rolo said instead, frustrated, not quite knowing what he was saying except that he needed Suzaku to understand _somehow_ and this was likely the only way, “just how many people walked— by, that day?”

From the blank expression and tension of his jaw, Suzaku had no idea what he was talking about. 

“Not just that day,” Rolo amended, thoughts still disjointed. “Every day. Hundreds of people. Maybe thousands. Pendragon’s a busy city. I heard them, you know. They whisper to each other, about how there’s a kid left alone sitting next to a dumpster in the rain. Or how there’s a kid left alone on a bench in the snow. They say things like— maybe we should inform someone. Maybe we should get help. Won’t someone do something about that poor kid.”

His voice was monotone, and he glared down at the floor. 

“I thought that was just how the world _worked_. That’s just what people did— say things like that to pretend to be someone who cared, when no one really cares at all. That’s why it doesn’t matter if any of them die. Anyone who pretends to care would only continue to pretend to care if a person dies. No one ever steps in to help. Not ever. A crowd sees something they don’t like, and at best, they ignore it. At worst, they _pretend_ someone else is going to help.”

Rolo looked up then, daring. “You wouldn’t have helped, either. If Lelouch hadn’t stopped for me, no one would have. You can’t pretend. I wouldn’t have helped myself.”

It was more than that one day. It was the old and worn handkerchief Rolo carefully hid in his pocket every morning, the silk worn thin in places with his need to hold the fabric from time to time, as a reminder of the warmth that was now real to him. It was the multiple days of waiting in the snow, sitting as still as he could as he watched crowds of people pass by, their eyes lingering guiltily on his person sometimes, or carefully averted as he stared.

It was… warm moments before breakfast, and storybooks read aloud. It was him trusting Rolo, despite what everyone else must have said. 

All the important things. 

Rolo had never had anyone extend a hand to him like that before, and he if he hadn’t taken it… he felt like he would never have found someone else to do so again. 

His fingers flexed involuntarily. 

That day, those days before, had nothing to do with this, yet…

“I won’t let you take him away from me.” Rolo told Suzaku, acutely aware of the arsenal on his own person, and just what weapons Suzaku might be hiding as well. 

“Rolo,” Suzaku said, sounding irked, “I’m not here to take him away from you.”

“You _are_.” Rolo insisted, frustrated. 

He would have said more, attempted more broken fragments of thoughts that didn’t seem to connect properly to explain the _threat_ he felt (and despite what Suzaku thought, Rolo believed he must have made plenty of progress with people in the past few years, seeing as he wouldn’t have attempted _conversation_ as a child, much preferring to rid himself of whatever troublesome individual first), except for the even footsteps that sounded, and Lelouch’s worried voice drifting down the corridor. 

“Suzaku? Rolo?”

They were hidden in the little alcove, but that wouldn’t be for long. 

“Look,” Suzaku said, voice hushed now that Lelouch was closer. He looked like he wanted to lean closer into Rolo’s space for the privacy but at the same time didn’t want to be close enough for Rolo to conveniently stab him. “You can’t get rid of me. I can’t get rid of you. If you try anything, you’re just going to upset both Lelouch and Nunnally.”

Rolo scowled deeply. That much he already figured out, even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

“There you are.” Lelouch’s voice breaks them both from the fierce glaring, and they both drop their aggravation to turn toward him, already dressed in pajamas. “What are the two of you doing in there?”

Rolo shakes his head before Suzaku responds, “Nothing.”

He misses the curious look Lelouch gave Suzaku, before the older teen reached to lay a hand on Rolo’s hair like he hadn’t in months— probably years, since Rolo stopped seeking the same kind of reassurance when Nunnally finally declared herself too old for headpats and hair ruffles. 

“Rolo,” Lelouch says, soft, “come here.”

He goes, feeling guilty about the confrontation, wondering if Lelouch disapproved of even this after all, even if he hadn’t actually moved a hand to _hurt_ Suzaku. It’s enough that he didn’t expect when Lelouch pulled him into a loose hug, reminiscent of when they were younger, and Rolo made an uncertain noise in his throat. 

He didn’t catch the exchange of glances above his head, or the way Suzaku shrugs guiltily. 

“You know you can come talk to me anytime you need to,” Lelouch told him, the words murmured against his hair, “Any time you want.”

Rolo didn’t dare move, and thought of all the times now that Suzaku and Lelouch were spending more time together by themselves, and how even he and Nunnally weren’t supposed to intrude. Apparently they were too old now to barge into Lelouch’s room unannounced, something that happened so gradually Rolo hadn’t noticed until recently. 

“ _Any_ time?” Rolo asked.

“Any.” Lelouch confirmed, and then huffed an amused breath against his hair as if he could hear Rolo’s thoughts. “Just knock first.”

Rolo contemplated his words a moment, before saying, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Would you like me to tuck you in?”

_Yes_ , Rolo thought frantically, hungry for each moment of Lelouch’s attention. He didn’t dare voice it, but was sure that the hand clenching at Lelouch’s shirt was indication enough, even as he curled into the embrace. 

“Alright,” Lelouch said, and pulled back to smile at him. He looked over Rolo’s head at Suzaku and said, “I’ll just be a bit.”

Rolo tried not to feel triumphant as he saw the older knight nod out of the corner of his eye, Suzaku withholding from commenting on Rolo’s age or status as a knight rather than a spoiled younger sibling, even as Rolo stuck far too close as they made their way down the hall without Suzaku, closer to Nunnally’s room, which still had light under the door, although that was more to do with how she never quite turned off all her lights.

He climbed into bed in his own room, still in dress shirt and socks, surrounded by small trinkets he picked up through the years, things that he defiantly hung onto as a way of differentiating from his past, now that he no longer had to throw it all away. 

Lelouch didn’t comment on his dress, instead sitting by his bedside with a bemused look as Rolo climbed under the covers. As Rolo stared expantently at him, remembering younger years when Lelouch would read to both himself and Nunnally to give them something for their dreams to focus on, he wondered if they had truly grown too old for childhood stories. 

He hated the thought. 

“There,” Lelouch told him as he tucked the blankets in loosely. “...it’s been a while since we’ve done this, hasn’t it?”

Rolo could name the last time, after one of Nunnally’s parties after her winning a tournament over eight months ago when she insisted that they all spend the night out in the common room where they could watch movies and have popcorn and just fall asleep there together. She insisted on them all bringing their pillows and blankets so she could turn the area into what looked like a sort nest. 

He didn’t think it was a good idea to bring up the exact date. 

“Big brother,” Rolo asked instead, because called Lelouch by his name felt too… too _weird_ , and he liked the connotations that ‘brother’ provided. There was something almost disrespectful about calling Lelouch by name without any titles along with it; others would have glared to see him address the prince so casually, and in that aspect, Rolo agreed with them. However, if he acknowledged the connection between them… “Why did you pick Suzaku?”

Lelouch hummed quietly. “As a knight?”

_No_ , Rolo wanted to deny, but didn’t. 

Lelouch brushed aside a strand of Rolo’s hair with a small smile. “Because I trust him, of course.”

“Why?” Rolo insisted. 

“Because he was there when I needed him, even when I didn’t know I needed him then. And he’s been there every moment since then.”

“...Was I there for you?”

Lelouch hesitated, mouth turned down with concern. “Of course you were. And that’s why you’re Nunnally’s knight.”

It was— it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, yet somehow that made sense entirely as well, because Rolo knew just how important Nunnally was to Lelouch. To be her knight, he knew, was the highest honor. For Lelouch to have trusted Nunnally’s safety to him… 

“What if he goes away one day?” Rolo asked. 

“He won’t.” Lelouch said with a wry quirk of his lips. “And I won’t, either.”

He wasn’t so childish as to ask for a promise, so instead Rolo let the words soak through him as he closed his eyes. If Lelouch said it, then it must be true. Since he was Nunnally’s knight, he must be just as important to Lelouch as Suzaku, maybe even more so. 

“Sweet dreams,” he heard Lelouch say softly as he drifted off to sleep. 

— 

The world ends on a Tuesday. Or at least he thought it was still Tuesday when the darkness came to Pendragon, even if the hour was late and it was likely that the world experienced it a day in the future thanks to time zones. For Rolo, it was a Tuesday evening when the earth started shaking as a warning to the changes coming their way. 

“How are you handling this so calmly?” Nunnally asked him, two days after the event, dark smudges under her eyes from her worry and unease. They were sitting on the Avalon, waiting, as Prince Schneizel and Princess Cornelia gathered information. Lelouch was off… somewhere, likely doing something that would require his sister and her knight to have plausible deniability later on. 

The screens before them showed various cities around the world, burning as people attempted to escape the spectres and the blight they carried. What had merely been shapeless darkness on the first night eventually evolved, turning into imitations of creatures with arms and legs and appendages that would allow them to travel faster— to get into buildings, to scale cliffs. 

So far, it seemed that they avoided the knights, although there was no real confirmation. People were consumed by the droves, bodies shot down in an attempt to quell the spread of infection only to rise up again despite holding no heartbeat and no recognition of their previous loved ones. 

Like puppets on a string, corpses taken over by something else entirely. They moved and they saw and they heard and they attacked— with all traces of the former person gone. 

“All the cities are burning,” Nunnally mourned, her voice a rictus of despair, eyes glued to the screens. “I wanted to— I wanted to see Paris again. There was a tournament in Stockholm, and I…”

She turned away, and Rolo laid a hand on her shoulder, awkward, but not pulling away as she gripped his hand within both of her own. 

“The whole world is ending,” she murmured. “How are you so calm?”

It wasn’t an accusation, Rolo knew, but a desperate attempt at wisdom that he didn’t have. 

“My world is right here,” he told her, because it was true. His world was Nunnally, and it was Lelouch, and in a small part, it was Suzaku and Princess Euphemia as well. His world was safe and bright still, and he would fight to ensure that it stayed that way. He would go where he had to, fight when requested of him, and do whatever necessary to keep his family safe and happy. “My world is still intact.”

Nothing else mattered, and somehow Rolo didn’t feel threatened by the blight and the fires in cities far beyond where they were. He didn’t feel the least bit guilty about not caring what happened to everyone else. 

— 

There was so much blood. 

Blood, and torn flesh, and the white of exposed bone, and even in the worst cases he had to deal with, the assassinations that gave him the most trouble, his victims never looked like this. Rolo’s legs felt like jelly, and it felt like his world was sliding sideways, moving out from underneath his feet. 

There was so, so much blood. He never thought the sight of it could affect him so.

Nunnally was crying, loud, and Suzaku was shouting at her, words that couldn’t filter through Rolo’s senses, and Euphie had collapsed to her knees, gasping her sobs, even as she leaned towards Suzaku, hands in the dirt, pleading, begging him to do— something, before it was too late. 

What was going on? What was happening to his family? Rolo didn’t care about the rest of the world. He didn’t care about politics, or lives at stake, but they were surrounded by the Blight, by the angry movements of Spectres above their heads, and everything was falling apart in front of his eyes.

There was black, and black, and the _red_ of blood— 

The world might have collapsed half a year ago, but right here and right now, Rolo thought everything was coming to an end.

— 

For the first time ever, Rolo didn’t feel like he wanted to kill a person he was frustrated with. 

It was either due to emotional growth, or because he was finally growing weak. 

Suzaku was sitting in a darkened corner of a demolished home, the ceiling all but gone and the walls crumbling into dust around them, just enough to hide him in its shadows and from the outside world. 

Not enough to hide him from Rolo, who spent his entire life trained to hunt people down, either it was to kill them or because of other reasons. 

“Why.” He asked, tone flat. 

He knew why, of course. Could barely comprehend making a decision like the one Suzaku did. Or maybe he just wouldn’t have made that decision, would have found another way somehow— 

There was always another way, as Lelouch would say. A smarter way. 

(A nicer way, Nunnally would interject cheerfully.)

Whatever other way might have been taken, Rolo didn’t know, but he wished that Suzaku had taken another way; chosen another path. 

The older knight was curled into a ball on the floor, head hanging loosely against his knees, the black of his uniform hiding whatever stains it must have picked up. Despite the posture, he didn’t seem distraught, form loose and ready for danger instead. 

Or perhaps just defeated.

“Rolo,” he just sounded tired, not looking up, “What do you want?”

He wanted to ask why again, but then thought of the stoic boy in the rain, so serious and on guard even Rolo had been warned away. That boy had proven to be loud and mischievous, willing to pull pranks on even the First Princess just because Lelouch got tired of her always crooning over her dress. He always seemed so much larger than life and undefeatable, just like Lelouch did. For so long, Rolo had aspired to be just like him. And for the past year, he had… resented him, a bit.

So instead, Rolo made his way over the crumbling room to sit next to him. 

As much as he looked up to Suzaku and as much as he resented him, he couldn’t say that all was forgiven. That would be a lie. He couldn’t say that when Nunnally was still whimpering on the hospital bed where he had been loathe to leave her, only acquiescing to her pleading to find Suzaku because she didn’t want him to do anything— drastic. 

Lelouch, on the other hand, hadn’t woken at all, even despite her sister’s pleas for him to do so. 

He looked up to face the darkened night skies and barely there stars, blinded by the lights coming from the base nearby. 

“I didn’t make a mistake,” Suzaku said lowly after long minutes of silence between the both of them. “I made the right choice.”

“Does it feel like the right choice?” Rolo asked blankly. 

Suzaku was silent. 

“I don’t regret it,” he said. “If I had to, I’d still make the same choice.”

Rolo wasn’t sure he would make the same choice. He thinks he might, but without having been pushed into that decision, he likes to think he would have acted more— rationally. But maybe not. He can’t comprehend it. He wonders what Lelouch would have done. What Nunnally would have done. 

(He thinks he knows what they would have done, and all their outcomes are different, none of them favorable.)

“You’ll have to leave,” Rolo says, “with Princess Euphemia.”

He doesn’t mention that the pink-haired princess’s gaze tended to linger a little too long on Suzaku, or that she blushed prettily each time he paid her a compliment without thinking enough on it. She always did look away before long, and flustered nervously when they stood a little too close, backing away first herself. Princess Euphemia was a kind and considerate person, and more than that, she was a good one. 

“I know.” Suzaku said. 

“You probably can’t come back,” Rolo continued. 

“I know.” 

“I shouldn’t even be here right now,” Rolo said, although without any heat. “You reneged your oath. Technically, that makes you a traitor.”

Suzaku was slower to respond this time, take a few long seconds before he said quietly, “I know.”

“But you don’t regret it.” 

“No,” Suzaku breathed out, in the dark of the collapsed building. “I can’t regret it.”

— 

He heard the crash before he registered what had happened. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Nunnally gritted out quietly, and then gave Rolo a wide-eyed look of guilt at the cursing when he moved before her, kneeling before her wheelchair to take her hand within his own, already reaching for her bloody fingers. “...It was an accident.”

_I can see that,_ Rolo could almost hear the words in Lelouch’s tone, both concerned and a bit wry. _What happened?_

Rolo didn’t ask that, but instead moved to retrieve the red bandaids he normally had stashed within a pack on his belt ever since before they were teenagers. He held her hand steady within his own as he dabbed at the shallow cut with antibacterial ointment before applying the bandaids, the red wrapped around her fingers replacing the hints of red blood under the skin. 

“There,” he said, wiping away the excess ointment and echoing what Lelouch would have said any time either of them got an injury, “all better now.”

Despite her grim expression, Nunnally managed a smile for him as she took her hand back and flexed her fingers and echoed his words distractedly. “...All better… right?”

He shifted, not yet getting up from the crouch. “...What happened?”

“Nothing,” the answer came suspiciously quick, quick enough that even Nunnally winced after the word was out. “I mean— I just knocked the mug over, but it was an accident. And then the sound startled me.”

Rolo eyed the heavy ceramic shards on the ground, glad now Nunnally was seated and not prone to stepping on it. “...I’ll get someone to clean that up.”

Her hand reached like a whip to snatch his wrist within her fingers before he could stand again. “Don’t. I can clean it up by myself.”

He looked down at her and frowned. “You _can_. You don’t have to.”

He didn’t have to ask her why she wanted to do it herself, the question implicit in his disapproval.

“I can do it.” She insisted, and then withdrew her hand. She wilted slightly as Rolo kept his gaze on her. “...you don’t need to tell Lelouch about this.”

He hadn’t said anything about that, but of course he would eventually tell Lelouch about it. Nunnally had never so much as tried to keep something from her brother, and Lelouch was very likely to see the bright red bandaids and be concerned, no matter how busy he was with C.C. lately. 

“I’ve heard that there are some artisans who have come up with beautiful designs on stainless steel mugs,” Rolo volunteered the information as he stepped away, slower this time so Nunnally wouldn’t feel the need to dart after him. “It’s non-toxic and contains a superior strength-to-weight ratio—” 

“I said it was an accident!” Nunnally protested with a pout, reaching over enough that she had to lean in her wheelchair so she could pinch at Rolo’s arm. “I’m not going to go around knocking down all the glassware! I was just distracted and didn’t— see it.”

The shards on the ground were thick and bright, just slightly misshapen from the mug that had originally been decorated one Easter as a collaborative project between Nunnally and Euphemia, packed with different color glitters under its shiny enamel exterior and pastel paints. 

It was a prized monstrosity of Nunnally’s that she gleefully set on display and used time and again while Lelouch sighed. It was a thing that seemed to draw all attention to it, and reflected all light, making it impossible to miss even when someone was trying to miss it. 

“Distracted,” he echoed disbelievingly. “Didn’t see it.”

She wilted under the look, “...don’t tell Lelouch.”

“Nunnally,” he asked, “what’s going on?”

She seemed to debate with herself for a long moment before admitting reluctantly, quietly, “I need the lights turned up brighter.”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“Even so,” she insisted. “It’s— dark in here. I can’t see things well in the shadows.”

He wanted to point out that the shadows cast from the large french windows in her quarters were hardly dark at all, merely shades dimmer in a way that made it easier to make out details for him. But then his gaze lingered on her white-knuckled grip on her wheelchair, and her glare off to the distance, eyes clear behind the contacts she wore during the day. 

Nunnally’s song, he knew, entailed a price. It was beyond powerful, but taxing on her own body in a way that accumulated each time she used her song. In the same way, Rolo had inherited a fair amount of power as her knight, and that very same toll on his body should he overextend himself. 

He raised a hand to his heart, rubbing lightly at his chest, and agreed with her. 

“I don’t want him to worry about me more than he has to,” she said quietly, as her fingers picked at the fabric covering the arms of her wheelchair. “I don’t regret it. I just wish things happened differently.”

— 

In the end, Rolo couldn’t regret his decisions either. 

“And you’re sure of this?”

Rolo’s gaze stayed on the ground in supplication, knowing better than to anger his superior. He still remembered his training from childhood, and the respect that was drilled into his head, into his manners, and in his physical responses. He nodded, just once, clear enough to be understood. 

V.V. hummed thoughtfully, turning the flash drive around and around within his fingers, smiling enigmatically as he lounged in the throne-like seat, platinum hair a wave behind him. 

“You’ve brought me such useful information,” V.V. mused, and shifted, “so very useful, really. Who knew that C.C. would become so attached? Attached enough to hide so much from me. It’s a shame— I really thought I could trust her. I told her everything, but then she goes and lies to me like this. _Hides_ them from me like this. I’ve known her for so long, too. It’s a fickle thing… trust.”

V.V. made a humming noise, and asked, “How long have I been cleaning up after you, Rolo?”

Rolo didn’t respond, his pose a parody of a knight’s with his hands down by his sides so that V.V. could see them, and his head hung to stare at the ground. 

“You’re a good killer,” V.V. praised, “but a sloppy one. Burying a body under some bushes in a playground? Dumping them in a river? All those childish mistakes, all those times I’ve had to send teams just to clean up after you… it almost wasn’t worth it, if you weren’t so damned effective at your job.”

Rolo waits, and sure enough, V.V. gets up from the throne-like chair to make his way down the stairs, and then peers up at Rolo from underneath, head tilted as he looked up with a sly, wicked smile. 

Years ago Rolo thought V.V. to be the largest and most frightening presence in the world. Now, finally standing much taller than this unfathomable being, his opinion hasn’t changed. V.V.’s unchanging and eternal child-like appearance only made him more fearsome, and not less. 

“What would your precious and so very _fake_ brother and sister think of you, to have all your corpses revealed?” V.V. wondered aloud, “if the Pendragon court were to hear about all your misdoings? Surely then they would find a way to take you from Princess Nunnally, Knight of Honor or not. Or if they don’t… what reputation would bleed onto the vi Britannias, to defend someone like you?”

A hand reached out, whip-quick, to grab onto Rolo’s chin and drag him down so that his eyes met V.V.’s. 

“You can’t erase your past,” the child-like being told him, fingers tight against the line of Rolo’s jaw. “ _I_ am the only one allowing you to live the life you’re living right now. I keep the vi Britannias alive to keep you happy, Rolo. Because you’re one of the children I saved.”

(Rolo thinks of a dark alleyway in the rain, of blood and trash, and Lelouch’s smile and offered hand.)

“If you’re not happy where you are,” V.V. told him sweetly, “then I have no need of the vi Britannias.”

“I’m happy where I am,” Rolo said, as monotone as possible. 

“Good,” V.V. told him, and let him go. “Remember, Rolo, I need relevant information. Useful. If they’re not useful to me anymore, then I’m sure I can find you a better family. You’ll keep reporting in, won’t you? And nothing but the truth. Any lie, and I won’t have need of you anymore, either.”

Rolo nodded, just once, and confirmed, “...I won’t let you down.”

“Good.” V.V. told him shortly, stepping back with a smile now that he got his threat across. “Tell me more of this… Song of his.”

It didn’t matter that the majority of the report had been detailing Princess Nunnally’s hidden Song, of course V.V. wanted to know more about the destructive one. 

“It’s powerful,” Rolo admitted reluctantly, because he thought that at least he wouldn’t have to _talk_ about it if he included it in his report, but V.V. seemed especially happy to push buttons today. “Very, very powerful. I don’t think he should be using it,”

“Oh?” The other asked, interested, “pray tell.”

“I think he’s struggling to control it.” Rolo said. “I don’t think it can really be controlled, or not the way that it’s being used. Not like this. He’s practicing right now, and doesn’t have it under control. We keep setting up wider and wider perimeters—” 

The child-like immortal gave a vague humming noise, although it sounded a little like agreement and approval. He stepped back up the stairs towards his chair, and pulled out a metallic silver cube, the size of a small children’s toy, sitting comfortably in his palm. The light caught it as he turned it slowly at an angle to present it, showing up long lines of engravings, like a microchip markings carved into the metal. 

“I have just one more task for you right now, Rolo,” V.V. told him, eyes on the metallic cube and smiling, “before I let you— enjoy a break. I suppose the Blight would make anyone busy. Do you know what this is?”

“No,” Rolo told him, again shaking his head just once to prevent excess. Be succinct and thorough.

V.V. brought the cube down toward the intricately carved wood arm of the chair, tapping a corner lightly, and Rolo couldn’t help bringing his hands to cover his ears in an attempt to ease to resonance that emitted from the cube at that disturbance, the pitch high and grating and _loud_ in a way that had nothing to do with volume, but with the way the sound cut sharply through his head. 

“Yes,” V.V. mused, seemingly unaffected by the noise, “I’m not entirely sure what this is, either. Or if it has a name yet. It has some rather unique properties and chemical compositions that I’m having broken down, so I suppose I can part with this one.”

He tossed it towards Rolo, who stumbled forward a step to catch the item, not wanting it to crash to the ground and give that strange resounding echo again. The metal was cool and heavy in his hands, yet lighter than expected, like it was hollow on the inside. 

“I want you,” V.V. said carefully, with a wide innocent smile, “to get me a sample of that Song. Be discrete. And then bring it to me. After.”

“...does it— capture a Song?”

“Oh, of course not. I just want to hear how it’s evolved,” V.V. said, “The rhythm, the melody… aren’t you curious? A Song you’re not allowed to hear? The actual Songs can’t be captured. We all know that. If that were the case, any being with more than two brain cells would have attempted to record a Song and use it against Britannia.”

“Of course,” Rolo agreed quietly, and stepped back, careful not to fumble with the object. 

“And Rolo,” V.V.’s tone was sharp, which only pushed Rolo to drop his gaze. “Don’t take too long with it. The next time he Sings, I want you to report back with this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Suzaku! Posting a chapter... about Rolo... on Suzaku's birthday... /sweats/ Well, I had this chapter done since last month but hadn't the energy to look it over yet, and then it was Suzaku's birthday, and I figured I should post _something_. ^^;;  
> First off, the music I listened to while writing Lelouch and Suzaku's scene is [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvpywift0Yc), if anyone's interested. Second, thank you for all the positivity with this story! I've been struggling with this story since I set up an... almost impossible deadline for myself earlier, and eventually just ended up doing anything but writing, lol. But every time I see a comment from others regarding this, I end up coming back to the document and writing a few more paragraphs, so gosh, all of you are _really_ making a difference here. Next chapter from Lulu's pov. 8D


	7. Catalyst Divide

Lelouch vi Britannia remembers very little of the original gardens at the Aries Imperial Villa. He thinks that the flowers had been a bit haphazard, a bit overgrown, with a very natural feel to things. If asked, he could talk about the terraces, with it’s flowering vines so thick that it provided enough shade to play under without worrying about sunburns. There was a hedge maze, maybe, although it might actually be smaller than the expanse of a four year old’s memory. 

He vaguely remembers wandering through the maze, hand trailing along the leaves because he knew that so long as he followed one wall, he would eventually make it to his destination and wouldn’t be lost. It took him a long time to find the center, not because he was bad at mazes, but because he would almost always be found and carried away before he could make it to be middle, knights and governesses both fussing over the mud on his shoes and light scratches on his hand where he trailed them against branches.

Lelouch had questioned Schneizel about the maze before, in the months when his mother were heavy and tired all the time with what would later be Nunnally. Schneizel’s answers had been vague, although the teen had hoisted Lelouch up to rest him against a hip, and promised that if he made it to the center of the maze, then there would be a present waiting for him. 

One day, when Nunnally was just old enough to toddle after him with uneven steps, still struggling with words that were more than one syllable repeated twice and giving all the nursemaids heart attacks as she made her attempt at stairs with a courage that Lelouch loved about her, he finally managed to free himself from the various adults looking after him just long enough to try finding the center of the maze again. 

After being cooped up three days thanks to a spring cold, he was eager to get outside and explore again, even if other people didn’t think he should be wandering about yet. He was tired of lessons and books and boring foods and being forced into bed, and tired of how mother would keep Nunnally away. 

He reached the center of the maze that day, he recalled, by following along one side of the path with his hand lightly touching the leaves of the maze, and found a space in the middle with a small tree with branches weighed down by many purple blossoms, branches sagging towards the ground and covering the stone benches underneath with fallen flower buds. 

Between two benches in particular was a stone chess set, one side a dirty white, and other other side black, and Lelouch sat on the black side, enraptured as he reached to touch the rough carvings, everything smelling potently of flowers in that area. Above him, the chirping of birds were extremely loud, flitting from branch to branch, and he looked up to a sea of dangling purple flowers as birdsong and the scent of wisteria overwhelmed his senses. 

It only made sense to hum along with the birds, then, although Lelouch would later come to regret that.

— 

“No songs,” Marianne told him firmly, hands tight around his arms in a manner that frightened him. Her hands and dress were dark with ash, but she was pale underneath her makeup as she knelt in front of him. It was the first time he thought his mother frightening, the expression on her face severe and alien to him. “Do you understand, Lelouch? No more singing, especially not with others. And you’re not to tell anyone of what happened here today.”

“But…” he hadn’t understood the fear then, “why not?”

Marianne’s grip tightened to a near bruising strength, and Lelouch winced, too scared to protest. 

“It doesn’t matter why,” she told him firmly. “I want you to promise me, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“What about music lessons?” he asked, voice small.

“You’ll stick to the sheet music. Instruments only. Lelouch. I want your word.”

He promised, and the next day, she carried him out to the other side of the gardens to meet with a green-haired woman, whose smile was false as she told him to call her C.C.

After that, the gardens at the Aries Villa turned stark and uniform in its beauty, with rows of roses planted in pots and pergolas in straight lines, and no mazes.

— 

When Lelouch turned twelve years old, Nunnally and Euphemia ambushed him in the morning by climbing onto his bed to jump on his covers, hitting him repeatedly with pillows and shouting at him to get up and celebrate because they already waited _hours_ for him and there were presents to be opened. When he refused, and shouted through the blankets at them to get off his bed, Nunnally wheedled (then begged, then ordered) Suzaku to drag him out because she had _plans_ and they were already late.

“Why,” Lelouch groaned despairingly into his pillow as his knight, after several minutes of this, managed to urge the two younger girls out carefully, claiming that Lelouch was never going to get up the more they tried to make him. 

“Why what?”

“Why _sisters_ ,” Lelouch whined, but did eventually manage to push himself up, all the sleep haze gone from his brain the moment Nunnally first stepped on him. “I should have asked Mother for a _brother_.”

Suzaku, already fully dressed but sitting at the edge of the bed and swinging his legs, with his hair tousled from managing the two princesses, only laughed and leaned back against his hands, the grin on his face rounding his cheeks even more. 

“They were going to wake you at six,” he told Lelouch, “I convinced them to wait an hour and let you sleep in today.”

If they could wait one hour, Lelouch wanted to comment, they could wait another one. He didn’t say that, though, instead stretching his arms over his head, closing his eyes a moment to savor the quiet moment before opening his eyes again to see Suzaku smiling at him, expression softer than a minute ago. 

“What?” He asked, curious. 

Suzaku just shook his head slowly, with the same soft smile as his eyes stayed on Lelouch. 

“Happy birthday,” he said, and somehow, the low tone and drawl of the words cause Lelouch’s cheeks to heat. The words just felt— so different from the shouts and congratulations from Euphie and Nunnally, different from everyone else somehow. 

Lelouch pulled his blankets up to his face, brain feeling suspiciously blank as he murmured out a thank you, and Suzaku’s smile widened. 

— 

The lights in Aries Villa were always turned overwhelmingly bright, due to Nunnally’s preferences, and it was just something Lelouch got used to, spending most of his time in rooms with all the lights turned on, even early in the mornings and overnight. Still, Nunnally herself preferred things even brighter than usual, so it was easy to see her coming as she turned on light switch after light switch when she went from room to room. 

Knowing she would be back soon, Lelouch left the multiples lights in his room on, and just as he thought, she was back and still in her pajamas after Lelouch got dressed, having given him ten minutes to change before charging in, overly large round glasses falling down the bridge of her nose and her hair still in an uncombed mess as she raced her way into his room and bee lined straight for the bed, climbing up and jumping on the springs, giggling at the moment of allowed misbehavior. 

“Pack, pack!” Nunnally shouted at him, all glee and sweetness as she bounced on the bed, glasses bouncing with her as she messed up the carefully tucked blankets, “We don’t have classes _all day_! No tutors, no lessons, no governesses, and we’re going on a _trip_!”

“What trip?” Lelouch asked, both fond and amused as he reached out to catch Nunnally around the waist, dragging his little sister down to stop her from making a bigger mess as she shrieked with laughter and squirmed in his hold. 

“Shouldn’t you get dressed too, Nunnally?” Suzaku asked her, just as fond. 

“I’m going to go in pajamas,” Nunnally declared once she caught her breath again, and raised her arms in excitement within her brother’s hold, “No dresses! No contacts! No one to tell me no!”

“I can’t tell you no?” Lelouch asked, amused.

“You wouldn’t,” she wheedled, pouting up at him, “you’d be okay with me spending all day in pajamas, right, Lelouch?”

She turned wide eyes on him, expression hopeful with her cheeks puffed out just the slightest, and Lelouch found himself agreeing with her just to see her wide smile afterward. He didn’t even realize he never manage to get an answer about her plans until Nunnally was already racing out of his room once more, voice raised to shout for Euphie and make sure they packed _all_ their dolls with them. 

“Still can’t say no to her, I see,” Suzaku accused, although the other boy was grinning at him, arms clasped behind his neck. 

“Shush,” Lelouch told him, although there was no bite to it. He didn’t know what exactly he was supposed to back— for a day trip? An overnight one? Nunnally only mentioned having the day off, yet there were no other clues outside of the fact that they would be leaving the villa— possibly Pendragon, with the way she was convinced that they would be allowed to wear what they wanted. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“...Norway, I think,” Suzaku told him with a smile, “somewhere cold. There’s some flight time involved, but we’re going for three days. ‘A proper weekend’, is what Nunnally said.”

“It’s Monday,” Lelouch protested, but smiled anyway. “And it’s not like we get weekends…”

“I think that’s why she wanted it,” Suzaku confirmed, and sat in Lelouch’s mussed bed, kicking his heel back against the bed frame thoughtfully. “I get it, though. What kid doesn’t get weekends off? Even when we go places, there’s tutors there.”

“We’ve never gotten time off before,” Lelouch said, already looking around for the suitcases he was sure was somewhere hidden in his closet, “she’s never cared before.”

“She’s nine, Lelouch,” Suzaku told him with amusement, “she cares.”

“Is Euphie coming along with us this time?” Lelouch asked from where he was rummaging through the closet, and Suzaku made an affirmative noise. “Really? She actually got Cornelia to say yes?”

“They’ve been planning this for months,” his knight revealed. “Since before Halloween.”

Lelouch stuck his head out of the closet to frown at him, “....Cornelia’s not coming with us, is she?”

“No adults,” Suzaku promised. 

“So we’re basically babysitters.”

“No lessons,” Suzaku continued, as if Lelouch hadn’t spoken, “just junk food and games for three whole days. No need to dress up, no having to suck up to anyone at Court, no one throwing you some extravagant party where you have to stand and greet more than two hundred guests by name and then spend hours asking about their families, where you can’t even have the drinks there ‘cause you’re not old enough—” 

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” Lelouch told him pointedly, dragging out a large suitcase from his closet and proudly letting it drop onto the ground. “But I hate junk food.”

“I thought of that,” Suzaku told him, “we can do the cooking there, too.”

“No having to play nice with Carine,” Lelouch mused, and brightened, “it _does_ sound like a vacation.”

“You’ll have to do all of that next year, though,” Suzaku said, still kicking his heels, “when you’re actually a teenager.”

“That’s a problem for next-year's me to worry about,” Lelouch announced, and grinned. “I still have a full year left.”

Together, the two of them managed to shove more in Lelouch’s suitcase than what probably should have fit, ending up with Lelouch kneeling atop the suitcase trying to keep everything in with his weight alone while Suzaku struggled to zip up the sides. There were plenty of winter coats and sweaters, thick socks and scarves; soft things to wear that didn’t require an excessive amount of buttons and pins, and the two of them whooped in success when they finally managed to get it closed. 

“What about you?” Lelouch asked, sprawled over the suitcase like it was a small bed, tired from the force required for packing. 

“I’ve already packed,” Suzaku informed him, “Nunnally and Euphie, too. I told you, they’ve had this planned for _months_.”

They stayed sprawled next to each other until Sir Gottwald knocked on the door and announced breakfast, and that they would be leaving within the hour. It was only then that Lelouch realized that he had reached for Suzaku’s hand, and hadn’t let go the entire time. 

— 

The plane ride was long, but somehow both Euphie and Nunnally spent half the time with their faces pressed against the windows, making appropriate cooing noises for the landscape below, which was mostly just ocean, so Lelouch couldn’t understand what was so interesting. 

“We ordered five whole Sachertortes,” Euphemia informed them proudly, cheeks flushed with excitement and happiness, “we are going to eat _so much chocolate_.”

“There’s only four of us,” Lelouch protested. 

“Then the birthday boy’s going to have to eat a whole extra cake,” Nunnally sing-songed at him from where she was bouncing in her seat. “Two for you, Lelouch! I will help if you really need it, though, because I’m _generous_ like that.”

Lelouch gave Suzaku a pleading look, but the other boy just laughed at him, and then tugged on his hand as Euphie and Nunnally seemed to lose interest in them, arguing about one thing or another to do with clothing and fashion and, for some reason, fencing coils. 

“C’mon,” Suzaku told him, and got up from his seat, pulling Lelouch along to the back of the private plane, “I’ve got a surprise. I was going to save it for when we got there, but I think Euphie and Nunnally won’t leave you alone once we land.”

Lelouch followed along easily, curious. “What is it?”

“A surprise,” Suzaku emphasized, and lead them toward the luggage area, which was really just a small room in the back where they dumped everything, because Nunnally hadn’t wanted her dolls to suffer at the bottom of the plane and claimed they needed a seat in the main area too, especially since she and Euphie would need their dolls to grace their tea party. 

It was darker in the back compartments, and Lelouch looked on curiously as Suzaku stepped over several bags to pull out his guitar case, and then plopped down to sit atop his own duffle bag triumphantly, opening the snaps in the case to pull out his instrument, dark and polished and still a little big for him. 

“I thought you were happy about there being no lessons for the next three days,” Lelouch observed, although he also sat next to Suzaku on the small bag, sinking in slightly as he spread his legs out in front of him. 

“It’s not a lesson,” Suzaku said, and then ducked his head slightly, looking abashed, “it’s, uh. It’s your birthday present!”

“My present?” Lelouch echoed curiously, and nudged him for an answer as Suzaku stayed silent, obviously embarrassed. 

Suzaku cleared his throat and then breathed in to steel himself, puffing his chest up as he did so. “I’ve been practicing! And, uh. I. I wrote you a song. It’s not magical or anything like that, but.”

Lelouch felt his face flush, suddenly glad that the room was darker than the previous one. 

“It’s probably not very good,” Suzaku continued, deflating a little with each word, “I haven’t let anyone else hear it yet. I wanted you to be the first.”

“I want to hear it,” Lelouch told him, perhaps just a little too quickly, and he rubbed at his flushed cheeks with embarrassment as Suzaku turned to look at him. “I mean, it’s for me, right?”

“Right,” Suzaku said, cheeks also suspiciously red, although his shoulders relaxed a bit as he smiled, that same soft smile as that morning, the very same one that seemed to make Lelouch’s stomach twist strangely. 

They settled, shoulder to shoulder, and Suzaku began to strum his guitar, at first slow and careful, and eventually picking up a bit of speed, with only a few mistakes as he slowly mapped out a song. Lelouch closed his eyes to take in the sounds more fully; accompanied by the slight rumble of the plane beneath them, the hum of the engines, and his thoughts meandered toward the Song he was never supposed to sing, and how good this would sound, accompanying that Song.

— 

“Did you get lost?”

Suzaku’s voice was familiar, and Lelouch smiled despite himself, looking away from the view on the cliffside where he had been huddled, rubbing his hands together thought his mittens for warmth. 

“No,” he declared, watching as his breath wisped in the air from the cold, and then hiding the bottom half of his face into his scarf again, “I wanted to come out here.”

Suzaku was bundled up like a snowman, dressed in a dark forest green to be visible against the white backdrop of snow, as he ambled along the path and sat down next to Lelouch, his breath like ice crystals around his face even as he grinned. “It’s really beautiful out here.”

It was. Lelouch looked back up at the sky, at the wavering lights, blue and green and hinting of other colors that stretched along the night sky, lighting everything up until he could see the reflection of light sparkling along snow like diamonds. 

“I’m not lost,” Lelouch said again. He knew exactly where he was. “...How did you find me?”

“You mean other than the single set of footprints in the snow, all the way from the cabin?” Suzaku snorted in amusement. “I’m your knight. I can always find you.”

Lelouch let out a laughing breath, “If you mean that silly story about knights always being able to find their charges…”

“But it’s true!” Suzaku insisted, also grinning, hair tousled under the thick knit cap he was wearing, “I can just pick a direction and go. I just _know_. It’s like— following a string. Easy peasy.” He held up his mitten, fingers folded down except for the end for Lelouch to see that he must have been holding up his pinky, “You know, like those stories about that red string of destiny. Except it’s connected here.”

And he tapped his chest.

“That’s silly,” Lelouch insisted, and pushed lightly at his knight, who only laughed, “you’re silly.”

They tussled a bit on the snowbank, underneath the glow of the northern lights, until Lelouch exhausted himself and laid back on the snow, letting the cold seep into his scarf and hat, smiling as he stared up at the bright sky and watching his breath crystallize in the air. 

After the long flight, Sir Gottwald had gotten the kids settled into the three story cabin up on the mountain, making sure they each had his contact number and then leaving to stay just far enough away for them to have their privacy, but close enough should anything happen. _No adults_ seemed to be the theme of the vacation, and Euphie and Nunnally had run through the cabin immediately, claiming rooms for themselves before throwing all their things onto their beds haphazardly. 

Lelouch knew better than to believe in their privacy, not with the drinks they downed on the plane, every one of them. It was more likely they had trackers, and that Jeremiah Gottwald was keeping a careful watch on those trackers, that that was the only reason they were allowed to play like this. 

It lead to an evening of games and Lelouch taking over to make a careful and simple dinner, with Suzaku volunteering to help him, while Nunnally cheered them on in the background and insisted on being a taste tester. 

Then it was presents and movies, until Euphie and Nunnally both fell asleep on the rug before the warm fireplace, and Suzaku volunteered to do the cleaning up, while Lelouch slipped into his coat and boots and decided to take an exploring trip outside.

“It’s cold out here,” Suzaku complained, shifting in the snow and reaching for Lelouch’s hand. “How do you stay out here for so long?”

Lelouch just chuckled, and raised their mittened hands, and then very softly began to Sing, of fire and warmth, of light and the promise of safety. Not enough for flames, no, but in the past two years, he practiced just enough to control it a little, to see Suzaku’s eyes widen in fascination as the red glow surrounded them, just enough for a bit of warmth, although it also meant that the snow was starting to melt a bit as well from the heat, soaking through the wool of their clothes. 

“Whoa,” Suzaku muttered, green eyes wide as he watched the tendrils of red light with more focus than the lights in the sky. “...It’s warm.”

“Are you surprised?” Lelouch asked. 

Suzaku shook his head. “I shouldn’t be.You’re pretty amazing even without the Songs.”

Lelouch flushed, but didn’t manage to look away. 

“It’s not midnight yet. _Lelouch_ ,” Suzaku said, the intonation of his name switched to a more Japanese pronunciation, and he continued on his in native language, “ _happy birthday. Thank you for being born._ ”

He didn’t have blankets to hide under this time, so Lelouch did the next best thing and let go of Suzaku’s hand to bring his mittens up to cover the redness of his face, and listened as Suzaku laughed in delight.

— 

“He’s nothing but bad news.”

Lelouch hesitated only a moment in his calligraphy, enough to note Suzaku’s frown as the other boy stopped in his writing as well to frown. 

“Who is?” Lelouch asked lightly. 

“You know who I’m talking about,” Suzaku told him, nudging him with an elbow. Their tutor left the room just a few seconds ago to take a call, and Lelouch knew that the Japanese boy was going to take advantage of their moment of privacy. “ _That kid._ ”

“Nunnally likes him.”

“Nunnally likes everyone. She’d find a serial killer entertaining, and that kid isn’t exactly far from the mark.”

Lelouch dotted his ‘i’s carefully before setting down his fountain pen, the warm weight of it rolling just slightly before it nestled into a groove on the papers. He looked up toward his best friend, and told him frankly, “Nunnally needs someone to protect her.”

“ _I’ll_ protect her,” Suzaku insisted. “I’ll protect the both of you. I made that promise.”

“You can’t be in two places at once. Nunnally can’t spend all her time with me. She has her own lessons, and we can’t stay together forever.”

“Why not?” Suzaku demanded, and then hunched to whisper, “and what are you trying to do with that kid, anyway? You can’t seriously be thinking of having him protect Nunnally! He’s _dangerous_.”

Lelouch knew that implicitly in the coldness in Rolo’s eyes, and how the young boy would track movements of everyone around him, expression cold and blank. He looked to be about the same age as Nunnally, yet underneath the round cheeks and short limbs, there was something… empty. 

It made Lelouch sad, and he already knew what Suzaku wanted to say. It was the same thing that Schneizel said to him just days previous, when his older brother asked if a puppy would suffice instead. 

“Maybe dangerous is exactly what we need,” Lelouch tried to excuse instead. “But that’s only if everything turns out well.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Jeremiah’s keeping an eye on him.” Lelouch admitted, with a finality in his tone that spoke of how he wouldn’t change his mind. He picked up his pen again to go back to his writing, sparing a thought for his mother’s former guard who had approached himself and Nunnally when they had been picked up from Japan by Britannian forces— Sir Gottwald’s uniform had still been stained and dirty, hair in disarray, when he kneeled before the siblings on Japanese soil and swore himself into their service as penance for his inability to protect Empress Marianne, despite the fact there was no way he could have done so. 

“Sir Gottwald can only do so much.” Suzaku said lowly like a secret. 

Lelouch smoothed a finger over his paper, avoiding the drying ink. He didn’t want to say that Rolo was with them because he just couldn’t leave him behind. 

“Then, trust me.” He said instead. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve got a plan.”

Suzaku looked dubious, but scooted his seat over so that he could sit closer to Lelouch. When the tutor came back, she scolded the both of them for having stopped their writing, instead having linked hands under the table. 

— 

He got the text early in the morning, before his usual time to wake. Lelouch stood in the middle of the hall of the Aries Villa, still in his pajamas, and frowned down at his phone. 

“What is it?” Suzaku asked him, already impeccably dressed for the day, his schedule as a Knight of Honor forcing him from bed at sun-up, to ensure he was ready and alert by the time Lelouch woke up.

“Something’s not adding up,” Lelouch said quietly to his knight, reading over the information. It had only been a few weeks since he went Rolo and Suzaku off to scrounge up information regarding what his brothers were up to, and while it all started up well, it seemed Schneizel closed ranks the moment he sniffed a leak. Clovis was much slower in his moves, but even he was starting to get suspicious that someone was looking into his affairs. Lelouch had done his own digging after that, uncovering suspicious phrases within the Code-R project, and curious experiments both his brothers seemed to be running. 

Clovis seemed to be convinced that there was some hitherto unknown Song that could give immortality, while Schneizel was experimenting with ways to artificially extend the life of Songs beyond the _Liedmeisters_. 

Songs without _Liedmeisters_ , Lelouch thought grimly, was a sure way to create a new weapon of war. 

But the information here, about his tutors being reassigned, about household staff being shuffled around next month and his schedule being cleared— 

“I think I’m being sent away again,” Lelouch said numbly. 

There was a bump of furniture a few rooms away, and Suzaku exclaimed, “What? They can’t do that… can they? You’re a _Liedmeister_ now. You’re too important for them to use as a political hostage.”

“You’re right,” Lelouch said, adding the information together, “I… as a _Liedmeister_ , there are things I can do for the Empire. I’d be useful. If that’s the case, then…”

He’d probably be sent out to the war, either to the Areas or to the EU. He doubted that anyone needed his assistance with the harvest or any such nonsense, and he was careful, more careful than anything, to make sure no one would know about his ability to learn other Songs. 

“But we’re just kids,” Suzaku said, coming to the same conclusion. Lelouch looked up to see Suzaku’s devastated expression. 

The timing was too much. Too convenient. It had to be either Schneizel or Clovis. Perhaps both of them, irritated when they discovered that Lelouch was snooping into their affairs. He had been— careless. Overconfident. He thought that he was still young enough to be above reproach and beyond suspicion, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Court politics were easy enough for Lelouch to navigate through, but Clovis and Schneizel both had years of experience above him, and more than that, they had their own circle of trusted advisers and likely spymasters. 

This… this was his own fault, for his inexperience. 

“Hey,” Suzaku said, and a hand closed around his own, lacing their fingers together. It was a risk, even in the early morning hours with no one around, because Suzaku had to be— the perfect knight. Above reproach. He worked so hard at it the past several years, and Lelouch didn’t want to see that go down in flames because of him— except Suzaku didn’t let him pull away. 

“Whatever happens,” Suzaku told him firmly, “I’m going to be there. Remember? They can’t separate us. No one can. I made my choice.”

It was just a moment of weakness, but Lelouch let himself tighten the grip for a second. 

“Yes,” Lelouch echoed his words from when they were children. “We’re going to stay together.”

— 

“That actually hurts,” Lelouch complained, but Suzaku only gave a breathy laugh behind him, keeping Lelouch in position. 

“Yeah, that’ll happen,” Suzaku told him, quiet, breath tickling against the shell of Lelouch’s ear. He moved Lelouch’s hand up, and pressed down on his fingers against unforgiving metal wire, “this is a part you’re used to, right?”

The hold was different, but Suzaku was right. 

“And here,” Suzaku moved his other hand, “you move like this over here.”

“Not sure I like it,” Lelouch mused, testing out the hold in his left hand. “It’s too big. Unwieldy.” 

“You haven’t even given it a chance yet,” Suzaku said, although the grumbling was more a breathy amusement than anything else. “You’re being picky. It’s not that bad.”

“It feels strange,” Lelouch declared, shifting against Suzaku behind him, “and uncomfortable.”

“You get used to it,” Suzaku told him, moving his hand once more, “and here—” 

The main light clicked on, to reveal Nunnally in pajamas, hair loose and squinting at them from behind her glasses, “...What are you guys doing in the dark? It’s late.”

“Teaching Lelouch how to play the guitar.” Suzaku told her easily. 

“It’s not dark, the lamp’s on,” Lelouch explained, equally as nonchalant. 

She gave them a long, searching look, and then said, “...Okay. I’m going to get a glass of water. Good night, Suzaku. Good night, Lelouch.”

“Good night, Nunnally,” Suzaku called out, and Lelouch was too busy laughing breathily as Nunnally turned off the main light again in favor of the one in the small kitchen of their suite with the Black Knights. He was still laughing as Suzaku tried to shush him and attempt to explain everything all over again to him as Nunnally crossed the room again with her glass of water, stumbling just slightly as she didn’t bother with the light this time. 

“Have fun with your _guitar lessons_!” She called out cheekily before she darted back into her room, closing the door behind her. 

“...I think Nunnally’s trying to insinuate something,” Suzaku commented slowly, even as Lelouch’s attention was back on the guitar, plucking at a string before wincing. 

“And you do this for the whole song?” He asked, shaking his hand out already. “Feels like it’ll scrape my skin off if I go too long.”

“What did she think was happening?” Suzaku said again, although it sounded more like he was directing the question at himself. 

“ _Suzaku_ ,” Lelouch called, “you said you’d teach me.”

“Ah, right, sorry,” his knight said, shifting slightly to put his hands around Lelouch’s again, “I thought you didn’t like it, though?”

Lelouch only turned his head to give him a _look_.

“Right, right,” Suzaku said with a low chuckle, and then continued, “we could start you with a pick, since that works just fine unless you’re going to multiple notes at a time—” 

— 

“Welcome home, little brother,” Schneizel told him warmly when Lelouch and Nunnally returned to Pendragon after the war, and after Lelouch tucked Nunnally into bed, promising not to stay up too late.

His half-brother was dressed as impeccably as always, and not as tall as he used to be… or perhaps it was because Lelouch was taller now after two years away with only sporadic visits from some siblings. They were still aboard the Avalon, since Schneizel had come to personally pick them up and take them home, with accommodations befitting the royal family. 

After two years away, Lelouch was— tired. Two years of wearing a mask, of setting up the perfect facade of Zero, leader of the Black Knights, who would fight against injustice and accept all into his ranks, no matter the heritage or class, so long as they were willing to fight to protect the weak. 

Those people didn’t want a fourteen year old leader— not even a sixteen year old one after all was said and done with. He spent the first few months leading from the shadows, and then employing a costume and body double, and even had a short time when even Nunnally and Rolo were dressed in clothing that would hide their identities, because anyone who found out who Nunnally was could easily deduce it was Lelouch beneath the mask. 

It wasn’t until the end of the war that he revealed his identity, and it seemed that the majority of the Black Knights needed… a while, to come to terms with their teenage leader. They were kind enough not to dig into his identity when they needed a leader, but now that the identity was freely revealed, some seemed to have trouble wrapping their head around it. 

So Lelouch left them behind for Pendragon, once again with only the bare bones of his family, leaving behind Margrave Gottwald in charge. 

In those two years, he managed to outgrow all the clothes he left behind, and the new wardrobe given to him felt stiff and uncomfortable, too formal and too starched after his time either dressed in a costume or in a more casual uniform for the science division under the pseudonym of Lelouch Lamperouge (easy enough to feign being named after himself in the Britannian military, and who thought to employ teens as young as that?).

“Thank you,” Lelouch said, although the words felt empty of everything but the manners expected from him. It was likely due to Schneizel that he and Nunnally had been sent away to begin with, but Lelouch had long since dealt with that rage and resentment, especially as Schneizel was one of the few brothers who continued to keep in contact, and who would supply Lelouch with whatever he asked for, unreasonable or not. 

Weekly check-ins, Lelouch found, did much to diminish resentment. Perhaps it was something the Emperor could have learned from his second son. 

Schneizel enfolded him into a polite hug that Lelouch couldn’t be bothered to return, even as he eyed Earl Maldini wearily. 

“I see you’ve got the Avalon working,” Lelouch said instead as his brother finally pulled back, and he thought he might have detected a hint of disappointment on Schneizel’s face before it was gone a split second later. But then again, his half-brother was an expert at concealing emotions, to the point where Lelouch sometimes wondered if he felt anything at all. “Congratulations.”

“It’s still a work in progress, I’m afraid,” Schneizel said, and seemed to regain that same polite smile of his. “Once the flight process is stabilized, then we can produce a Britannian fleet… perhaps look into settling the skies. A floating city would be quite novel.”

“Quite energy consuming,” Lelouch said instead. 

Schneizel only chuckled at the response, and then motioned to his aide— his knight, although Earl Maldini preferred to keep his original title— to lead the way as he said, “Perhaps I’ll give you a tour. Quite a bit has changed since you’ve last been home, little brother.”

— 

“Okay, but you’ll be sorry when they marry me off to some foreign prince and then you can never see me again!” Nunnally shouted out from across the room, jabbing her finger in his direction, looking entirely ridiculous with that indignant expression and her frazzled hair coming apart from the elaborate hairstyle Lelouch managed to pin in place for her, dress just a large puff of pink tulle and organza. “That’ll teach you!”

Then she turned and stomped into her room, slamming the door behind her loudly. 

Lelouch knew he should be mad, should yell back or at least scold her for her behavior because even if she was his baby sister, she still had to behave with the dignity of a princess of Britannia, but— 

He burst out laughing instead, loud enough that Nunnally thumped at her door angrily. 

“Marry you off?” He asked, taking his time to walk up to her door, leaning against her door frame with a grin, “who’s going to do that?”

Nunnally opened her door just a slit, and glared at him, strands of blond hair sticking to the sides of her face as her cheeks puffed out, “Father! Schneizel! Anyone!”

“And just who would they marry you off to?” Lelouch continued to ask, bemused, “what foreign prince, exactly? I wasn’t aware Britannia needed stronger relations with other countries. Also: who exactly are you going to marry at fourteen?”

“Guinevere said,” Nunnally told him, voice a waterfall of despair, “that’s how they’re going to get rid of me. Because I’m not suited to be a princess. I look— _stupid_ , in this dress! It doesn’t fit right, and I look dumb, and I don’t want to _go_ to Carine’s party, even if it’s for an hour. Can’t we just fake our own deaths and _leave_?”

“Guinevere,” Lelouch told her patiently, “can only pray to be married off like that, seeing as she’s in her thirties and still can’t catch anyone’s attention despite being First Princess.”

Behind the door, Nunnally snorted, loud and unladylike. 

“Are you going to let me in?” Lelouch asked her. 

“Do we still have to go to Carine’s birthday party?” Nunnally retorted. 

“Yes,” Lelouch told her and heard her scoff, “but I can fix your dress for you.”

She opened the door a little wider at the offer, still frowning, “I think the only thing that can fix this is fire.”

“That’s an option as well,” Lelouch admitted, trying to hide a smile as she scrunched her nose up at him, even as she finally opened the door completely, fuming in the puff of pink that passed as a dress. “...You’re right. That is ridiculous.”

“Carine said,” Nunnally gritted out, although there were hints of frustrated tears in her voice, “that since she gave me this dress, all she wants is to see me in it for her birthday. If I go, then everyone’s just going to laugh at me. I don’t want to go, and I don’t want to wear this.”

Lelouch made a thoughtful hum. They had about two hours left before the party started, and they could afford to be a little fashionably late, although not by much, if what Cornelia and Schneizel wanted from them was true. 

“...I’ll fix it,” he told her, already making a mental list of items that he would have to send Suzaku and Rolo out to get in a hurry.

“Really?” Nunnally asked him, a desperate hope in her voice. 

He leaned over and flicked her on her nose gently, smiling as that finally seemed to bring a tearful smile to her face. 

“I’m your brother,” he told her, endlessly fond, “I can fix anything.”

— 

He hadn’t meant to wander off quite that far, especially as Suzaku had been quite adamant about him constantly staying within sight, but it was a rare day when they the two of them were allowed beyond the edges of Pendragon, and Lelouch had opted for a two-day trip to the coast, sick of the heat. Whoever thought to build the capitol in the desert had to be taken out a shot, truly, for their sick humor. 

_I’m not lost_ , Lelouch thought to himself as he flattened his fringe over his eyes whenever someone’s gaze lingered over him just a second too long. He was well aware that despite his attempts at blending in, it would likely be his eyes that gave him away if someone looked too closely— something he usually didn’t care about when accompanied by Suzaku, but perhaps the two of them really had gotten too dependent on each other recently, as he felt somewhat… adrift knowing that Suzaku wasn’t merely two steps away. 

They always knew where the other was, but his knight had stopped to get them ice cream on the hot summer day, and Lelouch managed to move with the crowds in hopes of finding a shaded area to the point where none of the stalls around him looked familiar and there was no way to back up the stream of people. 

Just how overcrowded _was_ Britannia, anyway? It was never so bad in Pendragon, or in Japan, or Europia. Maybe it was because they were at the beach, and it was the middle of summer… 

He pressed himself against the cool bricks of the wall and well away from the heat of the crowd as he attempted to glance over his phone. He could call, yes, but that meant admitting that he managed to get washed away in the crowd rather than— than him just sightseeing, or something else mundane. 

_Sightseeing_. He sighed. Jeremiah would have a heart attack if he knew, the older knight giving very strict instructions each time Suzaku and Lelouch went off on their own. In his own way, Margrave Gottwald was… extremely protective of the vi Britannia children, and it was in turns frustrating and endearing to see such obvious signs of care. 

“Are you lost?”

He turned his head to see a girl his age, red hair bundled under a wide-brimmed sun hat and with a nervous smile, who seemed to have settled next to him against the bricks, possibly also to escape the crowds. 

“I’m waiting for someone.” Lelouch told her. 

“Oh,” her smile seemed to wilt a little at his casual demeanor and confidence, and she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, giving a small nervous laugh. “That’s good!”

“Are you,” it was her posture and the way she seemed to wring her hands that made him ask, “lost?”

“Me? Oh, no, of course not!” She was waving her arms a bit too aggressively for that statement to be true. “I’m waiting for a few friends myself! I just… didn’t want to get in anyone’s way while waiting, see!”

He looked down at his phone, and knew that no matter how uneasy he felt, Suzaku would find him. His knight always found him. There was an uncomfortable amount of people there at the beach, and the summer heat felt oppressing, but… 

“Would you like some help finding your friends, then?” He asked her, perfectly content with her refusing, but at the same time feeling a tad bad for her situation. If she felt anywhere as lost as him, then… well, it would be worse for her. The girl was wearing a light summer dress, the straps of pale yellow fabric on her shoulders revealing the top of a swimsuit that looked completely dry. She had likely gotten separated from her friends (or family?) early on in the day, before whatever plans they made actually fell into place. 

“I,” the girl looked so hopeful Lelouch couldn’t take back his offer now. “I-I’m okay waiting here, really!”

There was such a disparity between her words and her expression that Lelouch just shook his head, and decided that it couldn’t be _that_ difficult to help her find her friends (never mind how he didn’t want to brave the crowd of people again even if it meant getting back to the ice cream shop). 

It took only a minute more to convince her that he was willing to help, and the two of them finally braved a path through the crowd again after confirming that she didn’t have her phone on her, and that she didn’t know the numbers for her friends since they were there on a school trip— their phone services didn’t cover this area at all. 

“They said we should meet at the kebab stand for lunch,” the girl told him as they managed to navigate down near the food stalls (although Lelouch thought there were probably three other areas with food stalls in just on this one part of the beach). 

“And when was that supposed to be?”

“...two hours ago,” the girl told him in a defeated tone, although she tried to laugh that off as well in a wobbling attempt at optimism. “But that’s okay! If nothing else, I have the address for the hotel we’re staying at!”

“Why not go back there?” He asked her. 

“...I don’t have the key card,” she admitted with a weak smile. “And… it was a few blocks into the city. We only have one day for the beach, and everyone’s staying for the fireworks later, so I don’t think anyone will go back until after that.”

The sun was still high and it would be many hours before people settled down for the fireworks, even if the sandy beaches were already covered with towels from people who wanted to stake a claim on an optimal spot early. 

There were thousands of people out on the beach and boardwalk and pier, and he was just as lost as her. 

“How about over there?” He asked, pointing toward tall stone statue of the Emperor that everyone had to step around. It had to be ten feet tall. “We could climb that and your friends will be able to find you.”

“What? No! We can’t do that!” The girl fussed, sunhat wobbling as she shook her head. “That’s— we’d fall, or get into trouble for— for vandalism.”

Maybe after Lelouch actually found a way to pull that statue down, yes. Instead, they ended up pushing their way through the crowd trying to look for familiar faces, and standing atop the rim of a fountain just to see over everyone’s heads. They ended up braving the sinking hot sands on the beach, stepping carefully around towels and groups of friends and family who had already settled and spread their stuff around their area as well as well-mannered dogs that occasionally came up to sniff at them and demand pets. They took a short rest near a cluster of rocks right at the water’s edge only to end up soaked when a large wave creeped up on them unexpectedly. 

They should have stayed in one spot, Lelouch thought as he eyed the red and pinks that were starting to creep into the sky as the day passed. They must have canvassed the entire beach area by now, which meant her friends were actively looking for her as well and they likely just missed each other somehow. Not to mention, his skin felt tight and hot, and he was sure he would be covered in sunburns before the day was over, no matter how prepared he had been to go out. 

At any rate, even he was starting to get worried since his phone hadn’t rung either, and it had been hours since he got separated from Suzaku. 

(He would never, ever, be able to tell Jeremiah about this.)

“But what about you?” The girl asked suddenly after they circled back towards the food stalls they had originally stopped nearby. She looked startled by her own revelation, green eyes wide, “you were waiting for your friend! Oh no, I took you away from that!”

“He’ll find me,” Lelouch reassured her. “It anything happened, he would call.”

Somewhat hypocritical, maybe, since Lelouch hadn’t called either, but he figured that Suzaku was well-aware of what he was up to. Suzaku always knew. 

“Well, I—” the girl flushed a moment, ducking her head to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for spending the time with me. I guess I was a little— lost, after all. You know, if you wanted— I mean, if you don’t have—” 

A shrill chorus of teenaged voices cut her off, and her eyes widened as she looked up in surprise, and Lelouch could see a gaggle of teens on the statue of the Emperor he suggested climbing earlier, shouting and waving their arms in their direction. He couldn’t hear the words, but from the girl’s expression, those were the friends whom she had been looking for. 

One of them, a boy with blue hair curled at the ends, jumped off the statue as an adult in uniform blew a whistle and yelled for the kids to get down, although there was a blonde girl (and she looked rather familiar underneath the large sunglasses and wide hat?) who yelled back at the man in uniform, waving around a parasol to emphasize whatever she was saying. 

“Oh, no,” the girl besides him lamented, sounding worried, “this is why they shouldn’t climb— oh, but…”

At that moment, Lelouch’s phone rang, and he brought the screen up to check the caller, smiling as he saw Suzaku’s name. 

“It’s my friend,” he told the girl, bringing the phone up to his ear, “I guess we were both found at the same time.”

The boy with blue hair— short, but loud, was weaving his way through the crowd of people already, and despite not being able to see his head over all the passerbys, his voice could be easily heard coming closer and closer. The girl looked up at him, but Lelouch only smiled at her reassuringly. 

“Hello?” He spoke into his phone, and his smile widened as he heard Suzaku’s laughter. 

“I ate your ice cream,” his knight admitted cheerfully. “But it looked like you had fun anyway. Going to take her up on that invitation she never got to finish?”

Of course he was close enough to have overheard them. 

“I thought we already made plans,” Lelouch told him teasingly, and saw the girl slump her shoulders just a little, although she smiled at him. “You’re not bailing on me now, are you?”

“After the afternoon I’ve had? Not a chance.”

“The person you were waiting for?” The girl asked, her smile a touch wistful as Lelouch hummed an agreement. “Well, if he—” 

“There you are!” The blue-haired boy shouted as he shoved between the crowd of disgruntled people to move into their space, looking a bit mussed, “we’ve been looking all over for you! All day! Ahh, I swear we must have circled the entire beach at least three times, I think I’m going to know this place better than my own backyard soon enough—”

“Ah, wait a moment, Rivalz, I just—” 

Lelouch felt a hand slip into his own and tug him away gently into the crowd of people, and he went along with it when he heard the huff of laughter over the phone and the distinct click as the other side hung up. He followed suit, allowing himself to be pulled along the movement of the crowd as he slipped his phone in his pocket and turned his head to meet Suzaku’s grin, dark sunglasses slipping down his nose slightly to reveal bright green eyes. 

“How was your afternoon without me?” Suzaku asked as they moved further and further away from the other kids. 

“You didn’t want to hang out with them?” Lelouch asked in response, and moved his hand to intertwine their fingers. 

“I thought we already made plans,” Suzaku echoed his words back at him, and squeezed his hand in return, “you’re not bailing on me now, are you?”

“Never,” Lelouch told him as they moved along the crowd, with most of Suzaku’s face hidden under a baseball cap and large sunglasses. “You could have joined us, you know. Instead of following along like a stalker.”

“And miss you pretending to be a normal teenage boy? What was it you said about that movie you obviously didn’t watch— ow.” Suzaku laughed and pretended to wince as Lelouch punched him on the shoulder with his free hand. “You did better than I thought, though. She might have thought you were from the Areas. Maybe she’s from the Areas? One of you definitely doesn’t belong.”

“So you followed along just to watch me make a fool of myself?” Lelouch demanded, and sighed despondently, watching his knight laugh at his response. “And that time— when we nearly got pulled into the ocean—” 

“The two of you were fine,” Suzaku said blithely, and they finally exited the crowd to step onto the hot sands of the beach, the area now filled with driftwood and collared dogs sniffing at the sands. His knight leaned in close to whisper right next to his ear, close enough Lelouch could feel his smile, “I like seeing this side of you. Lelouch vi Britannia, handy guide for lost girls everywhere. Patient, kind, altruistic…”

“You know I’m none of those things,” Lelouch told him, rolling his eyes. He was a prince of Britannia, born and bred to ooze authority and wage wars. If anyone at the beach had the slightest clue who he was, the responses would have been drastically different. If anything, the correct descriptions for him would be manipulative, arrogant, and abrasive. As the person who knew him best, his knight should know that already. 

Suzaku chuckled, breath warm against Lelouch’s ear as his hand tightened his grip. 

“I think you’d be surprised,” Suzaku said softly, and led the two of them on towards the plans they made earlier.

— 

It was likely a good thing that their suites held such long couches, Lelouch thought, leaning comfortably against Suzaku as he read and his knight dozed lightly, arms around his waist and breath light against the side of his neck, only to be rudely interrupted as Nunnally dropped heavily onto the couch and wiggled her way around until she could rest her head comfortably on his lap. 

Lelouch was so used to it he merely rested a hand on her hair and continued reading. 

“Lelouch,” she said, tone sweet, “you’d marry me when I grow up, right?”

“No,” he told her simply, and turned a page on his book. “That’s illegal.”

She pouted up at him, “But you said you would before!”

“That was ten years ago, and you threatened to cry on my sandwich if I didn’t,” he reminded her airily. “Is this about what Guinevere said again?”

“We’re royalty, people probably expect it,” Nunnally wheedled, but then admitted with a sigh, “She’s full of crap— I _know_.”

“You’re too young to think of marriage, anyway,” he told her. 

“Yeah, but if I get engaged, I can rub it in her face,” Nunnally said gleefully, and then shifted, “Please?”

“No.” Lelouch told her again, still reading.

“Urg.” She grimaced, and then sat up again, “fine, I’ll ask Rolo.”

She was up and across the room before Lelouch could even put down his book to tell her, “Rolo’s not allowed to marry you either!”

“He’s not blood related, I can marry him if I want!”

“What’s this about marriage?” Suzaku asked sleepily, warm breath on Lelouch’s neck tingling his skin.

“Guinevere’s been teasing Nunnally,” Lelouch explained, picking up his book again. He could hear Rolo yelp from the other room, likely due to Nunnally latching onto him, and decided that if Rolo really needed help, he’d know where to find Lelouch. “About princesses being married off. As if we’re not in the twenty-first century.”

“Oh,” came Suzaku’s sleepy reply, and then the boy shifted to get more comfortable, “good thing you’re not a princess, then.”

Lelouch snorted. “I just said they’re _not_ getting married off. Although back then, even the princes had arranged marriages.”

Suzaku murmured something incoherent, something in Japanese as Lelouch turned his head to try and hear him better. Suzaku was twisted a little too out of his view. “What?”

“I said,” Suzaku repeated, and there was a smile against his neck, “if you’re not going to marry Nunnally, then will you marry me when we grow up?”

Lelouch flushed, and squirmed in his hold. “That’s— that’s not funny, Suzaku.”

“Not meant to be,” Suzaku murmured, tightening his grip. “Will you?”

Lelouch’s flush deepened. They were both seventeen, and… 

He didn’t think too hard about it. He wasn’t sure what conclusion he would come to if he thought too hard about it, and wasn’t sure that he wanted his mind racing down that scenario. 

He turned in Suzaku’s grip, noting that green eyes were sharp and didn’t look sleepy at all, and then leaned in close, one hand on Suzaku’s chest to brace himself as he said against the shell of his knight’s ear, smiling against warm skin, “Ask me again next year.”

— 

The spectres were… familiar to him. Distinct. Joyful. They whispered greetings and love like old friends, even as Lelouch tried to ignore them. No one else seemed to perceive that, and he watched the reactions of his siblings carefully to confirm it. 

“We have to figure out how to destroy them,” Cornelia said, jaws clenched in her frustration. Schneizel was calculating and thoughtful. Nunnally and Euphemia were frightened. With new orders issues and new objectives to carry out, Lelouch listened carefully for everyone else’s reaction, learning to imitate how they would behave. 

In the Gawain, in the middle of battle, close enough to touch, Lelouch could _hear_ them. Like whispers behind his eyes, wordless but intentions clear: they wanted to frolic, to play, and they wanted to stay. They offered their time and attention, to help, to keep safe, to protect. It was distracting, and Nunnally shouted at him more than once to pay attention from where she was seated in front of him in the pilot seat. 

It was all lies, of course. One look at what the Blight did to people, and all those warm whispers were revealed to be lies. 

Except he couldn’t shake the familiarity; the sincerity. 

He sought out C.C., who stayed with the Black Knights now in the chambers she asked for specifically, the room sterile and empty in a terrible manner that felt like his brain was emptying out every time he stepped into her space. 

“It wasn’t just the gardens, was it,” he said as he watched her brush her hair, sitting in front of a plain vanity with a brush that Nunnally had gifted her for Christmas the year previous. His fists were clenched in her blankets as he sat on her bed, entire body tense. 

“What a question,” she drawled, never looking away from her task. “Perhaps you’d like to add a bit more detail.”

“Thirteen years ago,” he said. “When we first met.”

She looked exactly the same as back then, not a single day older. 

“I looked it up. The date.”

A child didn’t care about the news, especially not a child fearful about punishment over whatever wrong he had done at home. And Lelouch, like any other child, had such a small world back then. It consisted of the Aries Imperial Villa and of his family, and it would take years before more people were added to it. He never thought to look up a random date that wasn’t a birthday, wasn’t a holiday, wasn’t a celebration. 

C.C. paused, and then carefully put her brush down. “And what did you find?”

Earthquakes. Storms. Hurricanes. There were even two incidents of meteor strikes, luckily in secluded areas— which started wide fires around it. A hundred and thirty-three natural disasters that day, luckily small, but enough that some jokingly referred to it as ‘mini-Armageddon’. 

It was scattered all around the world.

All of that, in addition to the acres of garden he managed to destroy, pulverize into grey dust. 

“I did that,” he murmured numbly, the stone sitting on his chest ever since he looked up the information now feeling heavier with the admission rather than lighter. He didn’t need to explain to her. She already knew. She always knew.

She was staring at him through the mirror, eyes near glowing as she said, “You were a child.”

It was confirmation enough, and Lelouch’s knuckles whitened in his grip.

“It’s impressive,” C.C. said, finally turning to face him, although her expression was blank. 

Lelouch barked out a bitter laugh. “That I managed that much destruction?”

“That you kept your promise to Marianne,” C.C. corrected. She tilted her head, staring at him through the mirror. “I admit, I had doubts about a child your age. Yet those disasters never came back. That’s impressive.”

Lelouch didn’t answer, and C.C. went back to brushing her hair, each stroke slow and methodical. He used to marvel at her patience, back when he was a child in the rare times she visited, since she could spend hours on a single task without losing focus. The files he found on Project R explained a lot of it.

“Do you hear them, too?” Lelouch asked on impulse, because if there was anyone who could possibly understand, anyone at all in the entire world, it might be C.C. “The Spectres.”

“They love us,” she confirmed amiably, brush moving mechanically. 

Love. It was what the spectres whispered and promised wordlessly, but Lelouch knew better than to believe it. 

(Yet he did, the same as he believed C.C.)

They stayed in companionable silence, in the unnerving quiet of her room, until she was finished with brushing her hair, tossing the mass of it over her shoulder once she was done, before turning to face him once more, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. 

“You don’t believe them,” she said. 

“Of course not,” he scoffed, and finally detached near numb fingers from her bed covers, straightening his back. “Look at what they’re doing to the world.”

“They don’t love the world,” C.C. dismissed easily. Her gaze stayed on his scowl, until she finally said, “...you really haven’t noticed it?”

“Noticed what?”

C.C. leaned back on her vanity, that small and mysterious smile back on her face. “...Have you ever been sick before, Lelouch? Taken down by a summer cold, or a flu outbreak at Social?”

“Of course I have,” Lelouch protested. 

“I meant in recent years. After the incident you’re speaking of,” C.C. amended, twirling a strand of green hair around her fingers. “I can answer that for you, since Marianne kept a careful record and the rest I know: no colds, no fevers. No allergies either, am I correct? I’m even willing to bet your sister’s not been sick either, outside of whatever she does to herself. Maybe not even your knight, or that boy you call little brother. And injuries… heal quickly, don’t they? Perhaps not supernaturally faster, but certainly faster than expected.”

Lelouch narrowed his eyes. 

“It’s fascinating how it works now,” she said, pulling at the wound strand of hair, “pain and sickness are more reluctant to touch them, because you love them. And the Spectres love you.”

“How it works _now_?” Lelouch asked, catching that because he didn’t know how to protest that insane statement. “Did it work differently before?”

“Of course it did,” C.C. said. “Songs could be learned, before. So long as you have the talent, you have the potential to learn any of the Songs. Nowadays, it’s more of a fairy tale— each of you born with the Song inside your heart, belonging to you… like some fairy tale connection.”

Her lips quirked upward in a mocking smile. “Like the Songs could _belong_ to you somehow.”

If Songs had to be learned, then Lelouch wouldn’t have caused that disaster as a young child. 

“Why don’t you use the other Songs?” C.C. asked him. 

He tapped his fingers on the bed. “It’s as you said— Songs aren’t learned. And we only get one.”

“The Song of Earth isn’t yours, yet you brandish it like a sword.”

That was an issue he had been struggling with recently. As fire was the only Song that seemed to push back the Spectres, Lelouch found himself useless in fights once more. Useless not because he couldn’t use the Song, but because he wasn’t _supposed_ to use it. Because he was supposed to keep it a secret that Songs could be learnt. 

Suzaku and Nunnally never gave him a second look in those times, never expected him to do anything more than he could show, and it only made Lelouch feel worse somehow. 

He could be helping Cornelia, could be doing _more_ , but there was a nagging voice in the back of his head that continued to tell him to hide, sounding like his mother’s urgent tones. 

But his hiding shouldn’t be at the expense of potential lives saved. 

(Not when his immunity to the Spectres was like a solid wall, impenetrable and tangible in such a way he could _feel_ it.)

“Have you learned the rest of them?” C.C. asked him. 

“No,” Lelouch said curtly. He stopped, thought about it, and then shook his head to reinforce that answer. It didn’t make sense to hide the information from C.C., not when it was likely she already knew all his secrets. It would only serve to hinder him in the end. “Schneizel is very careful about his Song, and the bits I’ve managed to get haven’t worked for me. It’s like he— encrypted it somehow, strange as it sounds. And water is… difficult.”

“It’s meant to be,” C.C. confirmed, “water is the prelude to healing. And one Song does not always work the same way for each person. It’s likely you’ll need to alter the Song of Wind before you can use it. It should be easy enough for you.”

“Alter _how_?” Lelouch gritted out. He shook away the thought of the Song of Destruction, and how easy it would be to clear an area even of the Spectres, and how he _knew_ that so easily, both how it would destroy the Spectres and yet please them at the same time. He wasn’t willing to risk more disasters. “How can I even change the Songs and have them still work? I can’t ask Euphemia or Schneizel… and even if I could, how could they explain it? _I_ can’t explain my own Song.”

C.C.’s smile turned sly as she freed her fingers from the twirl of her hair. 

“That I can teach you.”

— 

He fell. 

It was meant to be nothing more than a joyride, a brief interlude for privacy, just a few hours where they could be teenagers and not— knight and prince. Lelouch suggested it in a moment of weakness, and Suzaku agreed eagerly, because privacy was nothing something either of them could afford on the Black Knight base, and not back in Pendragon either. 

(Because _propriety_ was a concept that hunted his every step, and Euphie’s latest visit meant they couldn’t find any time to themselves, and Lelouch was always weak to Suzaku’s smiles.)

It was meant to be a picnic, far away from everyone else, and some time where they could— explore the ruins together. They landed the Shinkiro and Lancelot on the highest standing building of the small town, perhaps only five stories high and what looked like the remains of a shopping center. 

They were just— looking through the stores. Arguing about whether to bring back a trinket or two for the others, or whether that would be stealing despite the entire town being abandoned. 

Lelouch felt it first, like a prickling at the back of his neck, causing him to shudder and stop in mid-sentence, worried by the sudden buzz of warning in his head. 

“What is it?” Suzaku asked him, demeanor changing immediately. 

He meant to say that he thought something was wrong when the ground under their feet rumbled, and then shook, swaying side to side within moments, like a wave passing underneath them. In consideration, it might have been a harsh earthquake, but it wouldn’t have been a devastating one normally had it not been for the fact that the building they were in stood unmaintained and worn down by nature for the past half year. 

With grass and ivy growing through cracks, and small critters that seemed to have made their home out of holes in the infrastructure, the ground underneath Lelouch just— collapsed. 

And he fell. 

It was pure irony, he thought in those wide-eyed moments suspended in mid-air as Suzaku moved _so fast_ but just failed to catch him, close enough that he could feel the heat of Suzaku’s fingertips against his arm, that this would be his fate— protected from assassins and insurgents, from all the very real dangers that came with being a prince of Britannia, and ending up in danger now because of the very element that he professed to control just happened to be— beyond his control. 

He didn’t know whether it would be have been better or worse if the fall had been a clean one, four stories down, but it wasn’t, and he could hardly recall the shocking pain of hitting exposed rebar and scraping his way down broken floors and surfaces, once hitting his shoulder in a manner that caused him pain enough to nearly white out, although he does recall seeing the state of his shoulder after that to see flesh ripped open all the way to exposed bone. 

He must have passed out before the hit the ground, because Lelouch recalled _waking_. 

Waking to immense pain, to breath-stopping pain, and whispers behind his eyes, and darkness. He couldn’t move, could barely twitch, and everything hurt. _Everything_. 

He must have called out for Suzaku, but he couldn’t even hear his own voice beyond the rush of blood through his ears, the whimper stuck in his throat, and the whispers that reverberated through his head. 

It wasn’t darkness, he realized a few seconds later, or blindness. It was _Spectres_. It was the _Blight_. 

It was like a cold wind brushing against his skin, attempting to soothe him and failing, guarding him in his injured state. It was a protective rage and a mother’s lullaby at once, despairing and hopeful and so very loud in his head. 

_Sing_ , the Spectres would whisper in wordless form, sliding around him in a protective bubble. They took the shapes of insects and winged beasts, of fantasy creatures and monstrosities with too many legs and joints and twisted wings. He could barely see beyond the darkness they brought, their forms bubbling and changing like birds in the sky. _We can heal you. There is no time_. 

He inched his fingers along the ground, breath in hitches with the pain, feeling along the slick surface where he must have landed, attempting to assess the damage, although one arm didn’t want to cooperate with him. Only one part of him didn’t feel pain, and it was more alarming for his left leg to be numb, completely unresponsive, although he vaguely remembered falling and a sharp edge slicing through flesh— 

_Sing_ , the whispers urged again, _let us help you. Let us love you. Cleanse the world of fear and pain. You will never fear like this again. You will heal from all things._

But he couldn’t find his voice, not past the incoherent sounds of pain, and his head was fuzzy, muddied, and he was tired and cold and in so much pain that breathing hurt, moving hurt, and just existing _hurt._ Pain enough that he couldn’t understand what was happening, couldn’t string thoughts together properly. 

He was gasping— wet fingers trailing along until it found why he couldn’t seem to move beyond the devastating fall and injuries. 

He was— stuck. _Pinned_. His side was in agony, and Lelouch grit his teeth against the taste of copper in his mouth, trying to keep from shouting as he accidentally aggravated the wound. There was— metal. Thick. Dirty and bent and slick with warmth and he could feel tears in his eyes as he twitched from the pain, only to incite more pain. 

Pierced through— he must have— _landed_ on it, and it felt like something ruptured and everything was light and cold and so much pain. 

He must have passed out again, because the next thing he remembered was the Spectres even more agitated, more from seemingly nowhere coming to surround him, until he could barely get a glimpse of light at all, and shouting. 

Shouting. His name. He knew that voice, shouting in the distance. Lelouch tried to form words back, but his throat didn’t want to cooperate. It wanted to seize, wanted him back unconscious, and the Spectres were in a frenzy, _worriedprotectiveurgenteager_ all at once. 

“Su…” he could hardly draw breath, but attempted to swallow down the pain, more prepared for it this time around, even if it was still overwhelming and indescribable as he gritted out, “ _Suzaku_ …”

The shouting stopped for a moment before it came back louder than ever, and Lelouch closed his eyes, breathing harshly. He was tired, and cold, and he felt like his hand was stuck in a permanent grip around what felt like bent and broken rebar, fingers slick with blood, attempting to steady himself in a world of swirling black and pain that made no sense. 

“Stop,” Lelouch whispered lowly as his mind slowly pieced together what happened; what was going on. His opened his eyes just enough to see the Spectres, moving fast, surrounding him. “Stop. Let him through.”

They didn’t, though, unable to understand his words, and pleading with him to _Sing_ all the while, urging him, crooning wordless and soundless promises. 

They were a wall, a solid and ever-shifting wall between him and the outside world, and dimly Lelouch remembered the triumph he once felt after Ragnarok at knowing that the Spectres couldn’t get to him, not in the same way that they would cringe away from Euphie, but in a way that was like a barrier. Like two opposite ends of a magnet, unable to connect.

He looked, and their forms were like the birds in the Aries garden when he was four, having found the middle of the hedge maze. They were weaving through the air above him, fluttering, chirping and singing, and urging him to join along as dappled sunlight filtered through the flowers of the wisteria tree.

Voices, more voices, soon joined Suzaku’s, and there was more shouting, more despair. Lelouch glanced down on the ground, at the dark stain of the ground, and thought that it wasn’t the Blight. The dark smear slowly spreading, sliding even underneath the bubble of protective Spectres wasn’t actually the Blight at all. It was his own blood. 

“Let them through,” he tried to say once more, but now it barely came out in gurgled sounds. He raised his hand slightly, what felt like miles but may have been only inches, and swallowed once, and again. “...Please.”

He didn’t know if it was the plea, or something else, but something inside him— a line he hadn’t known he had— grew taut and snapped, causing him to gasp out and flinch with his entire body despite the pain.

It was like a miracle, he didn’t know how long later (seconds or years) that he saw a figure rush through the shield of angry Spectres, dressed in the black and familiar uniform that he designed, arms up to cover his face as he rushed through, and suddenly— there was Suzaku. 

Always there.

“ _Lelouch_ ,” his knight said as he lowered his arms and green eyes widened at the sight, voice wrecked from shouting and wet with emotion, enough that the name sounded like how it originally had in Japanese when they first met as children. 

Whatever snapped felt like a rush of energy, and Lelouch reached out with a bloodied hand, saw Suzaku fall to his knees next to him and take his hand— 

His touch was like _fire_. 

Despite the pain, despite everything, Lelouch pulled back harshly, eyes going wide as the world suddenly came into clarity for a split second, and he could understand things again, could take in his surroundings and the Spectres, angry, agitated, still around them. 

He could see the black stains creeping up Suzaku’s neck where unprotected skin must have come in contact with the Spectres. 

“Suzaku,” he breathed out, and suddenly that recently snapped tether felt like an abyss expanding out before him, “ _what have you done?”_

“What I had to,” his knight, his best friend, answered, and with one grim expression, he told Lelouch with all seriousness, “this is going to hurt.”

It already hurt, Lelouch wanted to tell him, it hurt unbearably. Everything hurt. 

But then Suzaku knelt into position, and wrapped his arms around Lelouch’s torn shoulder and bruised knees, his very touch like searing flames against his skin, and he _lifted_. 

What Lelouch thought of as pain before was nothing compared to the moments after that, and he recalled nothing of those moments, mind whitened into a blank, even as he was jostled, every contact like fire as pressure was applied against an area that screamed in agony, even as he felt Suzaku break out into a run, even as he was laid back gently on the ground. 

He didn’t think he had the capacity to feel any more pain than that. There must have been a human limit, where the senses just cut off, because what would be the point of pain telling the brain that something was wrong with the body?

He doesn’t recall any of those moments, of people or what happened, eyes opened only in slits enough to see Euphie and Nunnally after that, with Rolo white as a sheet standing behind them, and distantly blurred forms in the Black Knight uniform beyond that. 

He could hear Euphie pleading, begging, somehow the words directed at him, but also at Suzaku, and felt Nunnally’s hands, warm around his own. 

And then his little sister started to Sing. 

— 

Days were a blur afterward. Physically, he was completely healed. That’s what Nunnally’s power did, after all, fixing everything until not a scar or an ache was left. Lelouch kept himself busy with red tape and politics, with the court in an uproar at the discovery of Nunnally’s powers, it meant that he was pulling every loophole and loose law out from the books to keep her with him. Because she was still considered a child, just fifteen (and he missed their birthdays, he would have to regret that later), many were attempting to take her custody away from him despite not wanting anything to do with either of them before. 

Many of the nobles, and some of his other siblings, were attacking his age first— how he could he care for her when he was still underaged himself? Discounting, of course, the fact that he had been taking care of her since he was ten years old, and quite successfully. 

Vultures, the lot of them. All they saw were the whispers of her abilities, and they all wanted that for themselves. No one seemed to acknowledge the toll that those abilities took on her body, other than to point that as another weapon against him: as leader of the Black Knights, how would he have the time to take care of a disabled girl?

Physically, he was just fine— more than fine. Lelouch lost the tired feeling he hadn’t known he was accustomed to, from either overwork or undernourishment or dehydration or just the slight buzz of distraction from the faint caffeine addiction. The slight ache between his shoulder blades from hours of hunching over paperwork and maps and plans was entirely gone, as was the ever-present tension headache Lelouch just thought was normal.

His brain felt as sharp as ever, and he took satisfaction in writing scathing replies to his family inquiring after himself and Nunnally for the first time in— ever. They hadn’t cared when their mother died, when the two of them had been sent away to Japan the first time, and hadn’t cared when they had been sent away to the EU the second time, and now after some puny earthquake, they were all writing to send their condolences? What _impudence_. 

After a few hours of glowing screens and research, contacting a team a lawyers to build a solid and fool proof case in case anyone actually _tries_ anything against him, Lelouch leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his chest, ignoring just how dark it had gotten in his room. 

There were no real pains, just… phantom aches. Not of the injuries he had gotten, but— he wondered if this was what it felt like to be missing a limb, to be cut off— 

He could still hear the Spectres in his mind, although they were nowhere near the base camp. He could still feel the cold and the soothing, lulling sensations like ghosts brushing up against his skin attempting to comfort him while he was in pain. 

He would have to speak with C.C. She had been gone the past few days, wandered away to gods knows where, although it wasn’t as if he kept track of her all the time. She came and went as she pleased, like a stray cat, often coming back with more in-depth information of cities where people needed help the most. 

_They love us,_ she said, and while Lelouch doubted her words before, now he wondered if they might actually be true. There was nothing as complicated as emotions or words within the presence of the Spectres, but there had been… something, regardless. 

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and Lelouch rubbed at his chest a second more before he dropped his hand, and called out, “Come in.”

The door opened to let in a flood of light, and Rolo stepped in before he closed the door behind himself, leaning against it with his hands behind his back and his head dipped. 

“...Can I talk to you?” He asked, tone hesitant, and Lelouch could only nod, and watched the younger boy fidgeted nervously for several seconds. 

“Of course, Rolo,” Lelouch told him, pushing aside all his anguish and his uncertainties for the moment to play the role of the doting older brother he was so familiar with that it almost felt like a relief to be something so simple right now. 

It wasn’t a facade, he thought to himself, it was a privilege. 

Rolo came closer, and moved to sit gingerly at the edge of the bed in the small bedroom, staring down at his feet as Lelouch turned his chair toward him. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Rolo admitted slowly, sounding younger than his years. “There are things I have to do— report on, but I don’t want to do it.”

“What are you talking about?” Lelouch asked him. 

Rolo bit his lip, and then finally ventured to look up at him. “I’ve been reporting everything about you and Nunnally to— my superior. He’s… he’s been, collecting information on you. He wants to know everything about you and Nunnally and C.C., and I’ve had to tell him everything I know.”

Lelouch stood from his seat, suddenly enough that his chair skid back a few inches. 

“I don’t want to tell him anything,” Rolo insisted, “not anymore. Not about you or Nunnally— he’s expecting a report, and so many people know about Nunnally already, but I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want anything to happen to either of you, I don’t want— you’re my family. Please. Please, _big brother_ —” 

Rolo was hunched into himself, curled tight as if expecting to be punished, but Lelouch’s mind was like white hot noise. 

“What did he want?” He asked dully. 

“I don’t— know. He’s— V.V. He’s powerful. Dangerous.”

V.V. That was as strange a name as C.C., and C.C. was definitely older, knew far more than everyone else in the world. She was a supernatural being, unkillable, with her name shrouded in mystery. He could play it safe to assume this V.V. was something similar. 

“How long has this been going on?”

“He’s the one who— took us in,” Rolo admitted in a small voice. “The one in charge. I don’t remember. He was always in charge; the people who trained us to kill, they all reported to him. I thought I got out, because I thought they didn’t care if they lost just one of the kids, but— he found me, after a while. Said I didn’t have to come back, so long as I told him stories about you and Nunnally. He promised he wasn’t wasn’t going to hurt either of you if I kept reporting in, so I— did. He said never to tell anyone, not to let anyone know about him. But he’ll want to know about Nunnally now. And he’s— everywhere! He knows about everything that goes on in Pendragon, everything that goes on all around the world. He’ll know if I lie to him. He’ll know, and I don’t want him to hurt either of you.”

Just one thing after another.

Lelouch gave the boy he thought of as a little brother a long look, studying him. 

A part of him had always known somehow, from the beginning when he instructed Nunnally to never reveal her Song to Rolo, not the way she did so easily for Suzaku. When he took Suzaku’s warnings to heart, when the Japanese boy said there was something off about Rolo. They had always known Rolo was an assassin, he never tried to hide it, yet Rolo also never revealed his history or where he came from, showing up more and more often until one day he just failed to leave altogether. 

_V.V._

And there was a hidden enemy right there, unveiled. A player in the Pendragon Court, he suspected, if he was familiar with the going-ons in the capitol. 

“Why come to me about this now?” Lelouch asked, careful to keep his tone gentle. 

“Because I—” Rolo shifted, shaking his head, more emotional now than he ever dared to reveal. He looked more like a boy now than he had even back at nine years old. “I thought you were going to die. I thought— I thought I was going to lose you, and then Nunnally— I thought I was going to lose her, too. And I can’t lose you— you’re my family, you’re—” 

Lelouch very carefully extended an arm, and Rolo was off the bed in an instant, crashing against him in a tight hug and burying his face against Lelouch’s collar, sniffling. 

“You’re my _family_.” Rolo insisted again. 

“We are,” Lelouch confirmed, soothed, although his eyes remained hard. “And we always will be.”

Rolo was right in that manner. After all those years, they were family, despite the betrayal. Then again, the royal family had never been afraid to turn on each other when need be. Rolo was a right fit from the very start.

“Rolo, listen,” Lelouch said, coming to a decision. The boy just tightened his hug, but remained still enough to hear. He thought over his words, and the emotions he would have to convey with the words. “If this V.V. is as dangerous as you say he is, then I don’t want to put you in danger either.” 

Rolo pulled back just enough to stare up at Lelouch hopefully, his wide violet eyes a near reflection of Lelouch’s own. Lelouch moved to smile and card a hand through Rolo’s hair as he did when they were younger, the touch affectionate. 

“I want you to keep reporting in to him,” Lelouch told him with a confidence he didn’t feel, ignoring the rage and betrayal squirming in his heart. “But tell me what you’re going to say, and I’ll tell you if it’s okay or not. And I want you to tell me everything you know about V.V. You’re not in this alone. We’re family.”

“Of course,” Rolo confirmed eagerly, eyes wide with adoration, and Lelouch kept the smile on his face. 

“We’re going to figure this out, Rolo,” Lelouch told him, “and everything will be alright so long as you stay strong.”

Rolo agreed once more, determined to do whatever it took to stay in Lelouch’s good graces, and the prince just kept smiling. 

He could use this. 

He could. _He could._

— 

Lelouch went for another check-up the next day, because the doctors were paranoid, because they couldn’t seem to believe all the test results about him being just fine when presented with the shock of blood Lelouch lost that day. 

Because Schneizel insisted on it, hovering in a way he had never seen his older brother hover before, although even that concern was vague and spun to dissolve like cotton candy, Schneizel’s grateful smile an ephemeral one as he kept a hand on Lelouch’s shoulder through much of the check-ups. 

“I’m fine,” Lelouch would insist again and again, and then allow himself to be subjected to the poking and prodding of the doctors once more. 

“One last test,” Schneizel told him that day, tone gentle in a way Lelouch was too familiar with if only because he used that same pitch when wheedling Nunnally and Rolo into doing what he wanted. “And then I won’t ask for more.”

The Avalon had been parked in the air above the Black Knight base for too long already, and Lelouch was sure that his knights were getting antsy with the symbol of the Second Prince’s power hovering above them in the sky, kept in the air by the echo of Schneizel’s Song.

They would head back to the remains of Pendragon after this for Nunnally’s reveal as a contender to the throne. And if all went according to plan, then Lelouch and Nunnally would be back here again, and Euphemia would be— gone. 

Taking Suzaku with her. 

He rubbed at his chest again, which the doctors noticed only to do more tests that would yield nothing. He waited them out, glancing over to the window leading outside, the Avalon high enough in the air that it looked like they were in the midst of the clouds. 

He thought he could hear the chirping of birds even this high up. A chirping that soon turned to tinnitus, louder and louder as a queasy feeling grew in his stomach. 

He felt hot and a little nauseous, and knew the knock on the door was coming before it did. 

“Lelouch?” Suzaku’s familiar voice was almost drowned by the ringing in his ears, and he winced. “I…”

No one really documented what happened when a bond between Knight of Honor and royal charge was broken, because it happened so rarely. Most of the time, it was a mutual agreement, and they just went their separate ways afterwards, content with living their lives away from each other. The broken bond was usually caused by a disagreement so large that they could not come to bridge it, and thus most preferred to have no contact with that former part of their lives. Both lived on to have healthy, normal lives, or at least die due to circumstances that had nothing to do with the broken bond. 

No one ever told him that he would feel physically sick being around Suzaku now. 

“Suzaku,” Lelouch responded with a grimace, and looked up to see the other teen looked to be struggling as well, sweating and pale around the black stains like ink that still left slatters underneath his skin. “I… I don’t think you should be here.”

A bond once broken, Lelouch knew, could never be reformed. 

But even this was wrong, wrong, wrong. It wasn’t as if theirs were the first bond to ever break, yet there was no documentation of just how every instinct was screaming that they needed to put more space between them. 

“I… Euphie’s leaving this afternoon. I have to go with her, and I—” Suzaku looked like he needed to sit down before he fell down, but he persisted, “I wanted to at least come and— see you. I couldn’t go without saying… goodbye.”

Lelouch swallowed hard, feeling sick for an entirely different reason now. How was he supposed to do this without Suzaku? How was he supposed to do this, knowing that they had been together almost constantly for almost half their lives, and now they’re suddenly forced to part? 

How was he supposed to reconcile the future he thought he had now turned to dust?

He thought they would have more time together, have their whole lives ahead of them, to say all the things he wanted to say, but now it felt like a chapter was being closed on his life, and he wasn’t ready to let it go. He wasn’t ready to let Suzaku go. 

(But it wasn’t a closed chapter, was it? Yet something inside him eyed the dark Blight marks on Suzaku’s skin warily, because it wasn’t just the broken bond. It was the manner of which it happened. It was the whispers of the Spectres behind his eyes and him hearing it still, now, far away from the Blight. Hearing it in Suzaku’s presence.)

“I’m sorry,” Suzaku whispered, keeping his distance, although one hand was raised as if he wanted to pull Lelouch closer, only to stop in mid-air. “Seeing you here, I can’t regret it. I was so sure you were dying, I could feel it, and the Spectres wouldn’t let me through because I was— I don’t regret it. You’re here. You’re alive. But I’m sorry I keep— hurting you.”

His hand lowered, like defeat, and Lelouch threw himself forward to wrap his arms around Suzaku, and let himself burn. 

“Idiot,” he murmured, feel like his skin was sizzling from the contact, even through their clothes. He had to grit his teeth against the blaze, against the fire against his skin, pressing into him, so real he almost thought he could smell burnt flesh, except he knew it wasn’t true. He felt queasy and ill, the world falling apart in a spill of vertigo. “I’m just as guilty. Don’t go.”

Against all odds, Suzaku pulled him closer, his grip like steel even if he must feel the pain as well. 

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but his head was dizzy with pain, with flames, half incoherent by the time Suzaku turned his head to press a searing kiss against his lips, and Lelouch felt himself pressing back, pushing back, willing himself to hold on a little longer, opening himself to the fire. 

“Lelouch,” Suzaku whispered against his mouth, voice hoarse, “tell me to stay and I’ll stay. Tell me you need me here. Tell me you won’t leave me behind. I don’t care. If you ask it of me, I’ll renounce Euphemia.” his voice switched, grainy, into a more Japanese accent, “ _Lelouch.”_

Lelouch hummed, and opened his eyes to see Suzaku smiling at him, soft, eyes dark— dark, dark, inky _black_ , as he brought a hand up to Lelouch’s cheek and said in Japanese, “ _I love you._ ”

Lelouch didn’t have time to react to the look before Suzaku’s smile widened, something alien in his features, and he cupped his cheek, fire in his touch and proximity. 

“ _Sing for me._ ”

And Lelouch stepped back immediately, pushing him away with all his strength, nearing tripping over his own feet as the world shifted on its axis and he gasped for air. 

(“ _They love us,_ ” C.C. said.)

“Lelouch!” Suzaku called out, even as he stayed back, scared to cause injury as Lelouch fell back toward the counter, barely managing to brace himself in time as the still and impossible moment passed. Looking up, Suzaku’s eyes were as green as ever, wide and frightened— anxious and worried he did something wrong. 

He felt frozen in that moment, the fire banked and turning his skin cold. Suzaku looked devastated and confused, and Lelouch couldn’t bring himself to explain the— vision, he had seen. Couldn’t stop staring at the faint marks of black splashed against skin, although he didn’t care about that, he shouldn’t, it wouldn’t affect him in the slightest, except he could still feel the whispers in his brain. 

What happens when a wall is breached? His protection against the Spectres had been like a wall, a solid wall, that required Suzaku to renounce his oath just to pass through, but what happens when the Blight was already past the wall and underneath the skin?

“I—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard as hands coming to clutch at the edge of the counter behind him, and then made himself say, “you have to go with Euphemia.”

Suzaku didn’t say anything in response to that. Lelouch pushed on. 

“You can’t stay here. What would you even do here? We can’t stay together, not like this. You renounced your oath, and there’s no way of— taking that back. If you stay here, then what could you even do?”

He forced his tone to go hard, to be the only decisive thing right now, “You wouldn’t even be able to help the Black Knights. If you renounce Euphemia, you wouldn’t be able to pilot the Lancelot. You wouldn’t be able to fight. You’d be a liability.”

Euphemia was special— something about her, her presence, made the Blight shy away, made it leave. If Suzaku stayed with her for long enough, then eventually the infection might fade from his skin. Eventually, he’d be alright again, and Lelouch wouldn’t have to worry about— 

If Suzaku renounced her, then he would be consumed by the Blight. 

And Lelouch, god help him, would let him stay regardless. 

(The opposite of Euphemia, something about Lelouch, and he thought maybe he knew what it was, drew the Blight to him. Made it more interested, made it more— aware.

Just how aware could it become?

_“They love us.”_ )

“You told me not to go,” Suzaku said quietly, “Lelouch, I don’t want—” 

“It was a moment of weakness,” Lelouch admitted, because it was. “Of clinging to the past. But things have changed now, and we can’t go back.”

His knuckles were white against the counter edge, “Go with Euphemia, Suzaku. We have to move forward. You’ve said your goodbye.”

His stomach was churning, ears ringing, but that was nothing in comparison to the shame and despair of pushing Suzaku away like that. He didn’t look up as he heard Suzaku draw in a shaky breath, and then very slowly turn on his heel and leave, footsteps resoundingly loud on the laminate, and the quiet click of the door closing behind him like a thunderous echo. 

Lelouch waited there, waited as the nausea slowly abated, and the ringing in his ears stopped, and the world slowly solidified underneath his feet again, and it wasn’t until he was certain that the effects were gone, that Suzaku must be far away by now, that he let himself slide to the ground, drawing his legs up until he could press his forehead down against his knees and wrapping his arms around his head as if he could hide away from the world like that. 

Rolo was with Nunnally, and Nunnally was— recovering. Adjusting. She had her own worries now, and that was his fault as well. Suzaku was leaving with Euphemia, and he was— 

Alone. 

There was no point in screaming, no point in crying, and so he wouldn’t do either. Lelouch originally imagined that if something terrible happened, something that led to an end result like this, then it would be because of some great and terrible event— some great battle to take pride in, even when he lost. Something cataclysmic. 

But this— a little earthquake, a little fall, just because he wanted a day away from his responsibilities. It was excruciating. He had been his own downfall, and not only that, but the cause of Nunnally’s paralysis, and the reason Suzaku had to leave now, contaminated by the Blight as he was. (Infected, _infected_ , something dark and otherworldly staring at him through Suzaku’s eyes, powerful and taking over, drawn out by Lelouch’s presence—) All of this, and yet here he was, completely unscathed. 

It was right, he thought bitterly, that he was alone now. He was— 

Warm arms wrapped around him, soft, yet Lelouch found he wasn’t disturbed by the sudden touch, not when he knew the scent of that hair, and the warmth was chasing away the freezing cold on his skin. 

“I told you,” C.C. said (where had some come from? When did she get back?), although her tone held no rebuke as she pressed her cheek gently against the top of his head, “I told you to never fall in love. It doesn’t end well for people like us.”

— 

Ignoring royalty was a hobby Lelouch had down to an art. 

That didn’t mean he got away with it every time. 

“Do you really think,” Cornelia’s steady tone was deceptive in how calm she sounded, “that you’d be able to escape talking just by changing your number? And handing your phone off to assistants?”

Lelouch sighed, stretched out in the communications tent of the Black Knights, having already dismissed the crew from their duties for the next several minutes (snack break, smoke break, whatever they wanted to do if they just went away break, he told them) and holding onto the bulky mic for the radio. He would much rather have her on headset, or on his actual phone, but it was probably his own fault that he purposely continued to leave his phone in obscure places just so he wouldn’t have to pick up when she called. 

“I’ve been busy,” he told her airily. 

“So I’ve heard. Boston, Tuscon, Cleveland, and your recent move over to the Areas.”

“Says the person who spent years in Africa out on your crusades.”

“Then you know I’m far busier than you,” Cornelia told him, ignoring the bite in his words. “Yet I’ve always made time for family. When have you struggled to contact me? When have I ever put you on hold?”

Never, Lelouch didn’t say, because he didn’t call her to begin with. Instead, he slumped further into his seat as if he could escape her just by sinking into his chair. 

“—instead, I have to hear from my knight that you have been purposely ignoring Euphie’s attempts at contacting you as well. It is one thing to ignore orders from Father, Lelouch, and another thing entirely—” 

Sir Guilford, Lelouch thought bitterly, was a gossip and a _snitch_. He wondered if there was a chance he could just put her on mute for a few minutes and come back at the end of her tirade instead, but then imagined that she’d somehow _know_ and find her way to him just to yell at him face-to-face. 

“Do you even know how upset she’s been at being unable to contact you? You are her brother, and you’re meant to set a good example for not just Euphie, but for Nunnally as well— do you really think Nunnally isn’t learning all her bad habits from you? I left her with you to—” 

“Euphie decided to go to Cambodia on her own,” Lelouch interrupted, because that was one thing Cornelia couldn’t, shouldn’t, pin on him. “And if you wanted to talk her out of it, you should have been here to do that. She’s her own person, Cornelia, just like I am, and just like Nunnally is. She needed space, and _I_ need space, and we’re not going to stay the little kids who— who needed you to hold our hands to cross the street.”

Not that they ever did, or were even allowed out by themselves when they were that young. It wasn’t that Lelouch didn’t appreciate Cornelia’s protectiveness over her younger siblings, especially after Empress Marianne’s assassination, but he didn’t appreciate the sporadic excess of it. She hadn’t acted when he and Nunnally had been sent to Japan, or even later to Europia to the war-front. It was one thing to care about them when they were _there_ or in relevance to her, and then turn a blind eye when the Emperor needed them to serve a purpose that would likely get them killed. 

He had to consciously relax his white-knuckled grip on the mic. 

“This isn’t about her decision,” Cornelia told him, voice strange over the radio, “this is about you ignoring her calls.”

“I’ve been _busy_ ,” he pressed, “I haven’t taken any calls at all.”

Until a mandate from Schneizel was sent to order him to sit down and actually listen to what Cornelia had to say. 

“Other calls I can understand. I wouldn’t expect you to hold a weekly chat with Carine or Guinevere. But don’t give me that bullshit about being too busy. Marrybell has told me the two of you corroborated just last week.”

Marrybell was also a snitch, Lelouch decided, although it was likely she hadn’t known that Cornelia would be questioning him like this when she revealed that information. It wasn’t as if Cornelia would accept the fact that they had been speaking of tactics and battle strategy, which was not something he spoke of with Euphemia. 

His silence prompted a sigh from the Second Princess, “Just… stop ignoring her. If you’re angry at her, just tell her outright. She’s worried about you, and just wants to talk to you. God knows why, but apparently you’re her favorite brother, and nothing I say can change her mind.”

“I’m not ignoring her,” Lelouch denied, too aware of his own lie. He could hear the judgement in Cornelia’s lack of response, and very decidedly sighed. “...I’ll call her. Eventually.”

“Tomorrow.” Cornelia insisted. “And be thankful I’m giving you a day to work out whatever issues you have. I will _know_ if you haven’t, Lelouch, and I _will_ find you.”

She signed off with that ominous threat and without a goodbye, and Lelouch lamented once more returning to his family when he and Nunnally could have tried harder to stay invisible during the invasion of Japan. 

It wasn’t that he was ignoring her, Lelouch mused to himself in the quiet of the communications tent. It was that he was— _angry_. So angry, and all the time, and he could only keep up the act of playing cool and level-headed for so long each day before exhaustion caught up and then he was angry all over again: at himself, and at the entire world. 

Euphemia’s quick actions likely saved Suzaku’s life, considering how covered in Blight he had been. Yet if she had thought things through rationally, calmly, then she might have realized that Nunnally could have done the same. Nunnally could have made Suzaku swore an oath to her to halt the progression of the inkinesss on his skin, and then maybe somehow Suzaku and Lelouch would have been able to work through this. 

...Or maybe not. Maybe it would have created a whole set of different problems.

The worst was how angry at himself he was for being angry at her in the first place. Lelouch wasn’t sure what venom he would spit in Euphemia’s direction if he had to speak to her, and she didn’t deserve any of that. 

A script, he thought. He would write and pre-record a script, do as many takes as was necessary to keep calm, and then he would be able to tell her not to worry and that he just needed space. It was fine. He always knew what his siblings were going to say to him. He could just play the recording over the phone call and leave the room as to not hear her voice, not yet.

(He couldn’t speak with Euphemia, and he couldn’t speak with Suzaku, whose condition might be worsened just by his presence, just by his voice.)

He would be the calm and collected big brother that Euphemia… that Nunnally… needed.

Outside of that, Lelouch’s mind turned in silent rage.

— 

Spite was an excellent motivator, as Lelouch continued to be haunted by inky black eyes. 

If his Song was what the Spectres wanted then, his Song would be what they got. If the other Songs could be tempered with, could be controlled, then there had to be a way to control the Song of Destruction as well. And Lelouch was nothing if not motivated. 

“You’re playing with things beyond your control,” C.C. warned him, tone hard for the first time in a long time as he explained his plans to her. “This isn’t like the cute little Song of Earth, where you can control just what happens. The Song of Destruction represents chaos. It’s not _meant_ to be controlled. It will control _you_.”

“What control can it possibly take from me now?” Lelouch asked bitterly. He was at his wit’s end, with the amount of legalities he was wading through, more and more teams of lawyers built up against him to take custody of Nunnally away. The rumors of how she managed to heal his fatal injuries with a Song had reached far and wide in the Pendragon Court, and everyone wanted control of that ability, even fighting amongst themselves preemptively for a taste of that unique Song. 

Lelouch had never been worried about— control, before. Even when his mother died, he had a secret that could take control back of his life. Even when the Empire discarded him and Nunnally, he had known of ways to get them to take him back immediately. He had never been powerless in his life, not with his Song as the darkest secret he never let come to light. The power was always there, itching underneath his skin and humming through his veins. 

He always, always kept cards up his sleeves. 

Come let those power hungry nobles try to take his sister away from him after they saw what he could do.

“You haven’t yet mastered the Song of Water,” C.C. told him seriously, catching his attention forcibly as she shoved herself between him and the documents he was glaring at. “Learn that first. Show me you have complete control over it, and then we’ll discuss the Song of Destruction again.”

“Why?” He snapped, pulling away from her. “It’s my Song.”

“And it’s uncontrollable.” C.C. told him, voice sharp as she grabbed him by the back of the neck in warning, fingers cold on his skin, even if the grip itself wasn’t strong. “Don’t do this, Lelouch. You still have people you care for in this world. What would that Song do to your sister if you can’t control it? What would it do to that knight of yours?”

He pulled away again. 

“...He’s not my knight. Not anymore.”

“Then get a new one,” she told him. 

He only laughed in response, the sound manic. “You think it’s that easy? That Suzaku’s just so easily replaceable to me? Do you think I could just— walk out the room right now, call for the first person I see, and then knight them? I can’t— I’m not doing that again, C.C.”

A Knight of Honor was too close, too intimate a thing for him right now. A Knight of Honor would know where he was at all times, would be able to question him, would be— bonded. What seemed so easy for him to offer as a child was now painful and jagged. 

It was painful, every moment, chafing at his awareness where Suzaku’s presence used to be. Lelouch hadn’t known he had grown so dependent on his knight, not just for protection or assistance, but for his own ease of mind. 

Suzaku’s absence was a gaping wound in his chest, where a metaphorical red string had tethered them in a way Lelouch hadn’t known was even real before it was gone.

It took a long moment, but C.C. eventually seemed to relent, sitting herself on the arm of his chair and leaning against him in a comforting manner. 

“Then find yourself someone strong enough to take the position,” she told him, “someone you don’t have to care about, because you’ve never met them before. Someone smart, smart enough to survive that Court of yours. But with secrets— so they’ll always have their own agenda, and you won’t have to worry about them acting against your interests. Find someone different than Kururugi.”

He stared blankly down at the legal documents that were starting to blur in front of his eyes. “...I’ll think about it. And your help with the Song of Destruction?”

“I’ll think about it,” she echoed his words, and leaned her head against his, her spill of green hair falling over his shoulder, “First, the Song of Water. Prove to me you have a handle on all four.”

— 

Lelouch and C.C. locked themselves away for nearly a full week before he was able to emerge comfortably with a solution and a path to take. He counted himself successful in that aspect, but he hadn’t counted on his sister’s ire. 

“What the hell is going on with you?” Nunnally hissed at him from her new wheelchair, eyes red-rimmed and hands gripping tightly at the hem of his shirt as if he might disappear on her if she let go. “You can’t— you can’t do this to me, you can’t just disappear—” 

“I was here the whole time,” he told her, hands gentle on her own, although it was curious how her frustrations and teary eyes didn’t seem to affect him as much as he thought it would. She must have been waiting at his door for a while, seeing the trays of uneaten food next to her. “I never left, Nunnally.”

“But you _did_ ,” she insisted, shaking her head furiously. “And it’s not just a locked door! You’re— you’re leaving me behind, even now!”

He knelt in front of her, attempting to calm her, “I’m doing this so that doesn’t happen. So that it never happens. I’d never leave you behind, Nunnally.”

There was something fearful in her eyes that he didn’t understand, and Nunnally ducked her head, hiding her expression behind a spill of hair even as Lelouch reached to tuck her bangs behind her ears, hoping to lend a comforting touch. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice wet with emotions, “I know it was meant to be a secret. I know I should have— but you were— there was so much blood, and I didn’t know what to do. It’s my fault, mine, not yours, and you shouldn’t have to—” 

He pulled her into a hug, feeling as she buried her face against the crook of his neck, shaking, and told her, “I’ve told you before, haven’t I? I’m your brother. I can fix it. I can fix anything.”

Even if he had to prove himself a greater monster than the ones at Court to do it. Even if he had to break the rest of the world to keep them safe.

Suzaku was gone, gone, out of his grasp until something could be done about the Blight, and Rolo turned out to have been a spy after all, but Nunnally was still there. 

“I’ll fix everything,” he told her quietly. 

— 

His first test was with a small, abandoned town on the outskirts of a much larger and suburban area (also entirely abandoned), the area cleared of miles thanks to a heavy Blight infection and pyres that were still smoldering, still smelling like cooked meat from civilians who did their best to keep the contamination at bay. 

“It’s the best they can do, without military intervention,” Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald explained to him somberly, taking it upon himself to keep a close eye on Lelouch now that Suzaku was gone. “An unfortunate situation, but we cannot be everywhere at once.”

Lelouch looked out over the abandoned buildings, the blackened walls of Blight, and the flickering, dying embers of pyres, surrounded by miles of empty fields and forest, and nodded, “...It’ll do.”

They set up surveillance equipment, drones, all footage to be sent to a private terminal in Lelouch’s quarters later, and left the Black Knights far, far away. The Shinkiro needed repairs after the last earthquake, where it too had fallen from a greater height than Lelouch had, and so it was under Rakshata’s care for the moment, while C.C. proved herself a decent pilot when Lelouch boarded the Gawain again, the feeling of nostalgia warring with the sense of wrongness as he looked forward and didn’t see Nunnally grinning at him mischievously, but rather C.C.’s blank golden stare. 

“I think fifty miles is overkill,” he told her casually, but C.C. stayed as serious as ever. 

“If I had loved ones within fifty miles of the Song of Destruction,” C.C. told him, “I’d be a lot more worried than you.”

They made their way back to the small town, Lelouch and C.C. climbing out the Gawain and then surveying the area once more, and Lelouch gave his Knightmare Frame a lingering pat and asked once more, “...And it won’t destroy the Gawain?”

“It’s a machine that carried you here, and will carry you away afterward.” C.C. explained to him once more, patient, “These things are made of materials meant to withstand Spectres before they knew Spectres existed. You precious Knightmare will be fine, so long as you stay in control. Just like the rest of the world.”

She gave more advice as he steadied himself, “Keep it soft. Like a whisper instead of a shout. Keep it _here_. You recall what you did with the Song of Wind?”

“I remember our practice sessions,” he told her, only a little irritated. 

“You can’t let a single gale escape. In this case, not a single note. You are trapping the Song here, in this town. You aren’t trying to be heard. In fact, you’re trying _not_ to be.”

It was a Song he hadn’t dared to utter since he was four years old, but the tune was still fresh in his head, and he looked up toward the blue skies, wondering if this would work. 

“And Lelouch,” C.C. told him, catching his attention again, “...don’t think of anything else. Don’t let your own emotions get in the way. Don’t _feed_ the Song.”

“Don’t feed the Song,” he murmured, feeling ridiculous just saying it even as he took a deep breath and nodded. “Right. Don’t feed the Song.”

“If it feels like too much,” she said. “Stop. Just stop. It won’t hurt you, but it will _want_ you to continue.”

Ridiculous. Like a Song could be sentient on its own, pretending it was intelligent when it wasn’t, yet Lelouch remembered the whispers, and the urging, and thought that soon enough, Spectres would surround this area, drawn by— the Song, perhaps. Him. 

C.C. stood beside him, nothing left to say, and waited with him, offering her silent support. 

Lelouch closed his eyes, and thought of the Song in his head. 

_Keep it in a box_. _Keep it a secret_. 

He _Sang_ , and kept it quiet. Kept it gentle, even though the beat of his heart echoed like drums, and it would have been so easy to get lost in the tune. Slow and methodical, pushing to a liminal area between song and words, keeping the beat slower than it wanted to go, keeping it low and quiet. 

Above them, the skies were rapidly darkening, and Lelouch furrowed his brows, concentrating on slowly the Song down more. 

“They’re coming,” C.C. said tonelessly, eyes to the sky, and indeed, it looked like the world above them was darkening with Spectres, like storm clouds, drawn to the sounds. 

The earth was rumbling underneath them, barely noticeable, and the air around them growing hot, but never warm enough to remind him of— 

“Lelouch,” C.C. snapped, and he concentrated once again, pushing aside all outside thoughts. 

It would be so— _easy_ , to lose himself in the Song. Like it was made especially for him: the tune, the lyrics, the beat matching that of his heart. He closed his eyes, and kept a tight grip on the power in his veins, humming through his head and his ears, trying to coax him into a faster, truer beat. It wasn’t anything like the elemental songs, that he had to coax; no, this felt like the core of himself, wanting to spill over. There was so much there— so much power, and he could _prove_ it.

_Sing for me,_ Suzaku had said. No, not Suzaku. 

“Stop.” C.C. told him, snapping him out with a tight grip on his arm. “That’s enough. It’s over.”

The Song wasn’t over yet, didn’t want to be over yet, and thanks to how slow and controlled it had been, he hadn’t even gotten to a part that he could— _relate_ to. Spill, like catharsis. 

“ _Lelouch.”_ C.C. snapped, and shook him. He jerked, stopping, and stared at her with wide eyes, and then finally saw— beyond her. 

The sky was grey, ashen, almost indistinguishable from the earth, where he could see for miles because— everything was gone. Buildings. Forests. He didn’t know how far it extended because he couldn’t _see_ where it ended. The Spectres were gone as well, and the air was… like ash, slowly dissolving into nothing to filter back into clarity and blue. 

It was all just— gone. 

He turned around, and it was the same on the other side, on all sides. He could even see the Gawain where they left the Knightmare, covered in ash but still standing, and even that ash was starting to clear up, starting to fade away into nothing at all. The ground was flattened, almost, although now that he looked, they were standing in a slight crater. 

He felt— light. 

As fresh as he felt after Nunnally’s Song, and _more_. 

It was dizzying. 

“You did it,” C.C. told him, although he couldn’t tell if her words were meant to be congratulatory or horrified. “You managed to stop before the Song got serious.”

This— this was just the beginning of his Song?

It was a rush! Like fresh energy running along his vein, like this taste of chocolate on the back of his tongue after stuffing himself with sachertorte, like the first cup of coffee in the morning being all he needed to get through the day. He felt warm, and comforted, and _full_ somehow, like a good meal. Except— he could have Sang more; consumed more. 

“Now,” she told him, tugging him along gently like a child, “we should head back and see if it was all contained to this one area or not.”

— 

The results were excellent, and he was— calm. 

Nunnally had been keeping watch the entire time on the monitors, moving the drones further and further up as the destruction continued, until they were but dots on the camera feed within a field of grey. She was pale herself, but somehow Lelouch felt like it was something she _needed_ to see. 

That world of grey, that was _him_. That was the struggle in his head, manifested into reality. It was almost comforting to see, almost validating in a way. And while Nunnally’s Song was brilliance and wonder, Lelouch’s Song was— ash and dust. 

He had never seen it before, and the drones didn’t pick up on sounds, but the lights that came to aid him— the bright red of fire, the soothing green of earth— it was nothing like that. It was like shadows, like the Spectres themselves, dancing with the joy of being able to help. It was _playful_. They spun and danced, and consumed everything in their path, swift and fast, widening in a circle outward as entire buildings dissolved within seconds, as stone and metal crumbled and disappeared. Even the Blight, even the _Spectres_ , were consumed in its path. 

It was a waltz, a tango, as the dark lights swirled and spun, the cameras moving further and further to observe the extent of the destruction, until it was far enough away that it couldn’t make out the way that C.C. had to shake Lelouch to get him to stop. 

It was perfect. 

“This,” Nunnally was shaking slightly, her fingers white with tension, “is the message you want to send?”

For a moment, he worried that she would never see him the same way again, and in trying to protect her, he managed to push her away forever. 

“Yes,” he told her evenly. 

She surprised him, though, by reaching for him even now, even having witnessed a portion of the destruction he was capable of. C.C. had gone to monitor events from around the world, and the preliminary prognosis was good: they seemed to have contained the range of destruction. 

“They’ll want to use you,” Nunnally told him with a despairing twist of her mouth, “just like they want to use me.”

This would be the video ‘leaked’ back to the remainder of the Pendragon Courts, as a weapon of the Black Knights. As a weapon of _Lelouch’s._

He held onto her shaking hand, and she gripped back tightly. 

“They can try,” he told her confidently, “but they won’t succeed.”

For the first time in his entire life, Lelouch would show just a portion of what he was capable of. 

He thought of Rolo’s warnings, of _V.V._ and the unseen threat, and a royal court that wanted nothing more than to hold him under and drown him all his life. Lelouch had held back and endured the entire time, limiting himself the entire time, but that tiny taste of freedom reminded him that in the end, he had been the one drowning himself. 

“We’re going to smoke him out,” Lelouch said quietly, hands splayed over the screens showing the destruction that followed in his wake, “until there’s nowhere he can hide behind. Country by country, area by area…”

It was convenient that the Black Knights traveled so often, even before Ragnarok.

The Blight wasn’t a threat anymore. The Spectres weren’t a threat anymore. 

This time, Lelouch thought as Nunnally worried, the court will play by _his_ rules. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what Code Geass doesn't have enough of? _Whump_. (Said absolutely nobody in this fandom.)
> 
> From this point on, we should be moving forward, except for a few more flashbacks since I'll do another chapter for Suzaku (but next chapter goes back to Kallen). If I need to go back and change something because I'm dumb and forgot a scene I'm noted somewhere in the three notebooks where I've jotted down random ideas for this story, I'm sorry. And I'll absolutely tell you guys if I add something after the fact. But I figured I should stop hording my chapters just on the vague suspicion that I'm forgetting something major, especially if I plan on actually finishing this story any time soon. 
> 
> One mystery down! Onward to the end now.


	8. Saudade

“Hold him down! _Hold him down!_ ”

The heavy metal doors slammed shut behind Kallen, even as she struggled with the boy snarling against her, two other students also working on holding the boy down. They managed to wrangle the boy toward the nearest desk, throwing him down against it before a tall and muscular young man threw himself down on the crazed and delirious boy. 

“Rope!” The man called out sharply. “Or any bindings!”

In response, Kallen and the other cadets immediately started taking off their belts, and she gathered them all with shaky hands to lace them together so it was just long enough to go around the table and the boy on top, snarling and struggling, yelling in such a voice that didn’t seem human anymore. 

They only had enough for one loop, and managed to strap the boy down by his waist onto the table, which meant he still had range of movement and kicked and reached where he could even as they finally backed away. His movements were strong enough to knock over the heavy oak table after a few seconds, but the belts continued to hold even as the cadets all backed away in horror. 

The ferentic bumps of the table against the floor hid the sounds of boots until Kallen tensed as she heard an authoritative voice call out stoically, “What is going on here, then?”

“Sir!” The young man who ordered the bindings stood up straight and saluted, “Cadet Thompson started behaving strangely a few minutes ago, sir! As we were the closest, we restrained him and moved him to a more remote location away from the other students, sir! I suspect Blight, sir!”

Kallen’s hands curled into fists, dread curled in her gut in a manner that made her shake in fear.

She had gotten so far, done all of this, to get _away_ from the Blight. Signed herself up in an Imperial Academy away from her friends and everything she believed in just so she could— 

“ _Tsk_.” She looked up to an instructor standing at the edge of the room, face a grimace of disgust as he watched the boy snarl and writhe on the overturned table. “I liked that desk.”

The words brought up a surge of fury within her, and her shaking stopped for that moment. 

The instructor waved vaguely. “I’ll call it in. A team will be here shortly to carry… _this_ , to the incinerator. I want everyone who was in the room with you to report to quarantine immediately, and his items burned. Ahh… this will be so much more paperwork…”

“What is wrong with you?” Kallen couldn’t help snarling herself, unwilling to step closer to the infected boy but jabbing a finger in his direction as if she could force the instructor to _see_ him as a person rather than an object worth less than the table he was strapped to, “it could be anything! Aren’t you going to ask anyone to look at him? Aren’t you even going to ask who he _is_?”

Another girl grabbed her on the shoulder as she stepped forward, halting her, even as the young man from before stood in front of her slightly.

“Apologies, sir.” He said, tone just as formal as before. “She’s new. First week.”

The instructor just waved that off as well, apparently unaffected by Kallen’s accusations. “She’ll learn. Three days in quarantine will do.”

The next few hours were a frenzy— she watched as a group of people dressed in white hazmat suits came for the boy, who, by that time, was showing the classic signs of black under his skin. She and her fellow classmates were marched to an underground facility where they were given white scrubs and then underwent a humiliating full body check before assigned to barren bunks. 

There were almost twenty of them in that room, and they were told very firmly that they should stay in their own assigned areas and not touch anything, least of all anyone, until quarantine was over. 

The next three days were grueling, with one more person taken away before the end, and no one else commenting on it. 

It wouldn’t be until two months later that Kallen would learn the cause of the breach— sneakers the boy had paid under the table to be smuggled past the Academy’s strict policy of allowing no personal items.

“And this is why we allow nothing in and out of this Academy,” a sweet-looking woman told her gently as she signed off on Kallen’s papers. “You never know when things like this will happen.”

In the five months Kallen stayed at the Imperial Colchester Military Academy, it happened two more times, resulting in eighteen more deaths, until she too stopped questioning and reported it immediately to the faculty. 

— 

Kozuki Kallen, formerly known as Karen Stadtfeld, was not known for being a patient woman. She was, however, known for both her ferocity in battle and her extremely quick wits. Within a week of being initiated into the Black Knights, her reputation as the new Knight of Honor for Zero had grown despite her barely having met the prince a handful of times in that time period, and all of it for mere minutes only. 

That was fine, Kallen thought. She preferred it that way. 

She was more interested in the rest of the Black Knights, anyway, seeing as they were one of the very few forces in the Britannian army that composed of— foreigners. _Numbers_ , as other Britannians would call them. Kallen likened them to being with their own unique stories instead. It was a wild and refreshing change after nearly half a year in the Colchester Military Academy, which was composed of mostly purebred Britannians who sneered at the idea of working alongside Numbers. 

Despite her best intentions, she became quick friends with the other knight— Gino Weinberg, if only because he was persistent and didn’t seem to understand the idea of personal space… but not in an invasive way. He was like— a puppy, all enthusiasm and wagging tails. 

Yet other than him, the one who seemed to take the most to her was Dr. Rakshata Chawla, since all the other Black Knights seemed to be warm, but— distant. 

Kallen had hoped… she didn’t know what she hoped. Maybe she hoped that after she got into the Black Knights, she’d finally find her place. A group she could relate with, because if anyone in the world could understand her thoughts and her anger, then it would be them. It would be the Black Knights, who fought for freedom and justice, from the reports, defying even the Empire if they had to. 

Yet while everyone was polite, answering whatever questions she had, none of them seemed— eager for her to be there. 

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Gino told her, as Kallen’s downtrodden expression must have shown after yet another soldier excused herself in the mess hall after her attempt to talk to them. “They’ll get used to you! You just need another battle. We’re all much better at bonding through battle— show ‘em you’ve got their backs!”

“But I wouldn’t even be there to watch their backs,” Kallen gritted out, carrying her lunch tray in an effort to get away from Gino with no avail as the younger man followed her with an apple in hand and a corned beef sandwich in another. “Since my mission priority would be to protect His Highness.”

“Even better!” Gino told her, taking a large bite from his sandwich and talking through it, “Show ‘em you can protect Prince Lelouch! That will win their respect even faster.”

But she hadn’t the chance to prove herself in battle since the first day when she was barely allowed any time to test out her new Knightmare (her favorite thing out of this entire situation so far), and she spent the rest of her free time testing in simulations or inside the hanger to help Rakshata (who insisted she call her by name) calibrate the prototype to fit her better. 

She just couldn’t understand the distant attitudes… was it because she was half-Britannian? Yet Gino was greeted as cheerfully as ever, and the tall blond was clearly a Britannian noble from his stagger to every detail of his features. 

_Why do they hate me?_

“They don’t hate you,” Gino corrected her before Kallen even realized that she murmured the question aloud. He pointed toward her with the hand holding the apple as they both found an unoccupied table in the room and sat on the lightweight aluminum bench facing each other. “They just don’t want Suzaku to feel like he’s being replaced.”

“Who’s Suzaku?” Kallen latched onto the information immediately, leaning over her lunch tray. “Why would I be replacing him?”

“Err…” the blond knight cringed back a little, and then set his food down to scratch at his nose in thought, “Well, he was… Prince Lelouch’s Knight of Honor before you…?”

“Then where _is_ he?” She asked, because that sounded perfect— someone who could show her the ropes, and a Japanese name at that. Kallen had thought Gino to be Prince Lelouch’s other Knight of Honor, with his unique Knightmare Frame and piloting skills, yet the younger man hadn’t said much on that matter. “I want to meet him. We’d need to learn to work together, right?”

Her disappointment in Zero’s true identity was one thing, but perhaps another Knight would understand her plight. He might even help her integrate better with the Black Knights. 

“Yeah, about that,” Gino wavered, “he’s not here anymore.”

Kallen wilted immediately, feeling a bit guilty, “Oh no… I’m sorry, I—” 

“Ahh, no, he’s not dead or anything!” Gino backtracked, giving a nervous laugh. “He’s perfectly fine! Just— you know… not here anymore. And people around here might still be a little… um. Touchy, about that subject. It’s not that they don’t want to welcome you, because you’re very welcome around here! I think they just need some time to adjust to someone new.”

He took another bite of his sandwich then, looking a bit nervous. 

Kallen examined the words in her head. 

“...What happened to him?” She asked carefully. 

“He’s working with Princess Euphemia right now,” Gino answered. “Seriously, he’s not dead or maimed or anything. There’s no tragic story preceding you that you need to walk on eggshells for. He just can’t come back right now, so everyone’s been pushing Prince Lelouch to take on a new Knight of Honor, and that’s you, so trust me, everyone wants you here.”

“What about you?” Kallen asked carefully, tilting her chin toward the pins on his uniform. “You’re a Knight of Honor.”

“Oh, me?” He pointed to himself and grinned. “Think of it as an exchange program! Since Suzaku went off with Princess Euphemia, she assigned me to look over her brother so that he wouldn’t be left without one of us by his side!”

“And now that I’m here?” 

“Now it’s my job to train you for your job!” He told her cheerfully. “Lots of little things to learn, and you’ll have to figure everything out on the field, too. I got months in Pendragon to study before that day, and I was still having trouble keeping protocols and regulations straight in my head. Did they give you the books? Did you _look_ at them? You can either bludgeon people to death with those, or feed a fire for days.”

“...Rakshata gave me a tablet.” Kallen admitted. 

“What?” Gino looked aghast, frozen a moment over his food. “That’s… a way better idea. Why didn’t they just give me a tablet? Why all those heavy tomes that I had to carry around everywhere until I could recite them?”

“Not that it’ll do me any good,” Kallen said bitterly, poking at the food on her tray. “It’s not like His Highness even wants me around.”

So much for all those stories she heard of Knights of Honor constantly babysitting their royal charge. With Prince Lelouch seeming to avoid every room she was in, and Gino and this Suzaku fellow far away from their own charges, Kallen wondered if that was just some myth perpetuated to give off that fairy tale quality. 

“He’ll come around,” Gino said, and smiled at her. “He wouldn’t have chosen you if he didn’t think you were qualified, you know! I’ve known Prince Lelouch for a while now, and he’s— ahh, I suppose ‘picky’ is a word I could use, although to be honest I’ve heard his sisters describe him as ‘fussy’ before and that has to be the funniest and most accurate description I’ve heard for him—”

“Why bother picking me as Knight of Honor if he doesn’t want me around?” Kallen asked, still stuck on that thought. She pushed her tray away with a finger in disgust. “Why not knight that— that green haired woman who’s always around him?”

“Who? C.C.? She’s not always around. I mean, she’s around a lot more now, but… well, not a lot is known about her. She comes and goes, and never really answers questions about herself. Not really sure she’s knight material there. There are rumors, of course, that she can really fight, but I haven’t seen it before.”

He lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “And to be honest, she’s a little scary, I think. They call her a witch around here. And it’s like trying to train a cat to be a guard dog. Not sure if it works.”

That seemed unfair. Kallen thought of _herself_ more as a highly aggressive and dangerous cat being forced into the position of guard dog. 

“So she’s not Prince Lelouch’s Knight of Honor,” Gino told her in a blatantly obvious manner to shift the subject, “you are! And if no one else, then I’d love to welcome you around more! Tell me more about yourself. Likes, dislikes, hobbies, interests— hey, I’d love to know what you find attractive in a significant other—” 

She dipped her fingers in her drink and then flicked them at his face and watched with amusement as Gino yelped and backed off. 

A puppy, she thought once more with both a wave of irritation and strange fondness, overeager and attentive in a way she didn’t have the energy for. 

“Tit for tat,” she told him. “You want answers, then so do I. Who the hell is C.C., if she’s not his Knight of Honor?”

“Well, I don’t really know,” Gino told her, watching her flicking fingers a little warily and backing up as she moved in. “I haven’t really spoken to her? I tried! I like getting to know everyone on base, but C.C. just disappears when anyone tries to talk to her. The only thing we know about her is her name, and I don’t even really think that’s her name? Oh, and the fact that she seems as immune to the Blight as the rest of the royals, but she’s not one of them.”

Immune to the Blight, but not one of the royals. Kallen’s eyes sharpened in on that information. 

“You know that for a fact?” She asked.

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” He asked back. 

Kallen’s previously frozen smile dropped, and she dropped her hand. “Why would you want to know, anyway?”

“Because there’s this great ice cream place,” he said cheerfully, “in Pendragon, and it’s still standing. Tiny place. Local family run store, all organic ingredients, if you’re into that as well. Freshly made, and they have lactose-free options, and I’d really like to know your food allergies so I don’t accidentally suggest something that might make you think badly of me.”

Kallen leaned back and sighed, and decided to go back to her meal.

— 

She didn’t know why she expected constant, non-stop battle from the Black Knights, but the waiting and the moving certainly wasn’t what she had in mind when it came to joining one of the most prestigious military groups in Britannia. 

Maybe she expected everyone to constantly be moving at a marching pace, but that wasn’t what it was like with the Black Knights. Instead, they had a large operating base that went along with them, and a wide progression of vehicles as large as houses, half of the equipment carried by a low hovering airbase— nowhere near as impressive as the Avalon, but certainly a lot more… comfort, than Kallen expected. 

Not that she hated the fact that she was constantly roaming inside a mobile base, but it was a little unsettling to feel the vibrations under her feet and the rumbling of the engines even when she was trying to sleep, knowing that when she woke, they would be in a new location. 

Or maybe she was just homesick for the house she grew up in, and the town whose skies stayed the same. 

She woke to the sound of alarms and her bed lurching from underneath her one morning, startling her badly the first few seconds until she remembered where she was and eventually let go of the tight grip she had on the knife stored under her pillow. 

The sounds of heavy boots and shouting came from outside her thin metal door, and Kallen barely bothered with her uniform, still in the loose tank and shorts she slept in, before stepping outside to assuage the situation. 

“What’s going on?” She asked a passing young man in a lab coat, who looked in less of a rush than the other uniformed Knights. 

The young man took one look at her and grimaced, but said, “We’ve reached the next city.”

They’ve made more than one stop before at a city— blackened and burnt by previous battles, but she hadn’t heard the piercing alarm sound for those pit stops. 

She just glared back at the disapproving scientist. “And why the alarms, then?”

“...It’s been overrun,” he pointed out to her. “That’s why there are alarms. We’re approaching a contamination line, which means you Knights need to be out and ready, not questioning me on what you’re supposed to do. Who do you report to, anyway?”

Kallen gave him a wide, fake smile. “I’m Prince Lelouch’s new Knight of Honor.”

It was worth holding back on punching the arrogant man in the face to see his eyes widen and him to suddenly sputter out an apology and an excuse to be elsewhere, knowing himself outranked. 

A banging noise around the corner caught her attention, and she turned her head to see Gino grinning at her, already in his piloting uniform and holding up what looked like a doggy bagged meal. 

“Rise and shine, Kozuki!” He called out above the din of others, raising an arm to wave at her despite how unnecessary it was. He was a head taller than the rest, it looked like. “We’re up in five, so you might want to get changed.”

She didn’t take the time to respond, instead retreating into her room and taking only the seconds she needed to pull on the skin-tight piloting uniform, zipping it up with a shimmy that might have been a little too much effort, and running her fingers through her hair once before slipping on the hairband to keep stray red strands off her face. 

When she exited, Gino was waiting for her with a sandwich hanging from his mouth. 

“Good,” he said, voice slightly muffled by the food as he tossed the bag at her. She caught the light paper bag, and then looked inside to see another sandwich. “Who knows how long this one’s going to take. Good thing I was down at the mess before this now, wasn’t it?”

“You were getting food,” she calculated the hours in her head, “at three in the morning?”

“I’m a growing boy!” he told her cheerfully, and the two of them set down the narrow hallways around the other crowd of people. “Can’t help when I get hungry.”

“Any bigger and you won’t be able to fit into your Knightmare,” she told him wryly, but Gino only laughed in response. 

“Nah,” he told her, jabbing a thumb at himself and grinning. “They make the Frame to fit us, not the other way around. Maybe if we weren’t prototype pilots—” 

She brushed past him as the automated system started speaking with a woman’s voice, calmly ushering everyone to report in to their commanding officers, and that their base was now stopped ten minutes out from the contamination line; for pilots to suit up, and for non-combatants to be at their stations. 

— 

Kallen meets Sir Rolo Haliburton, officially, for the first time when she first feels the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the small of her back. 

She stiffened, and heard the toneless voice behind her, “Slow reflexes. Reaction speed can be improved. Doesn’t wear body armor.”

She wasn’t able to question it before the gun was pulled away from her back, and she turned around to see— a young teenager, couldn’t be more than fifteen, staring at her impassively with light violet eyes. He was wearing the uniform of the Black Knights, although with boyish shorts instead of the normal pants, and further embellishments on the sleeve of his coat although with an elaborate pin on his chest. 

She _recognized_ the voice, one that had been on her comms the first day she went into battle with the Black Knights. 

“Sir Kozuki,” he said, and smiled coolly. “You’re the new Knight of Honor.”

“What of it?” She asked carefully, eying the gun still pointed at her warily. 

“My name is Rolo Haliburton.” He told her, and finally holstered his gun— somewhere on his belt, which seemed strange because there was no telltale weapons bulge at all. “We’re going to be working closely together from here.”

He didn’t give her a chance to question why before he left, without a single glance back, and Kallen was left feeling like she dodged a bullet somehow. 

— 

She hadn’t expected to meet Princess Nunnally out on the base, in the midst of Black Knights during their music lessons.

Kallen had been running late, grabbing her clarinet along the way, it being one of the few possessions that came along with her mostly because it was practically common knowledge that all Britannian knights were required to have playing knowledge of an instrument that could be taken into the battlefield. With the constant mobility of the Black Knights, it made sense that their music lessons would be outside when they could hold it outside, with the sheer amount of people cycling through the base. 

Music lessons were every day, but people were assigned two lessons a week to not overwhelm the music tutors, and Kallen’s group held seven other people, of which she knew Gino was a part of if only because he claimed to have wheedled his way into her lessons. 

What she didn’t think she would see, was a young teenage girl in clean silks and jewels interwoven into her hair, sitting in a wheelchair behind a large harp and tuning the strings, with Sir Haliburton sitting next to her, helping her move things that were a little out of her reach around. 

“Is that—?” She couldn’t help but ask Gino, astounded. 

He merely glanced up from his tuba the moment she sat next to him with her clarinet case, eyes wide and focused on the young princess out here with the Black Knights in the middle of nowhere. 

“Is what?” He asked curiously, at a whisper to mimic her. 

“Is that _Princess Nunnally_?” Kallen whispered back, taking her clarinet from its case with a quick snap release of the silver buckles. The instrument was clean with shiny, silver keys on a black base, and for a moment she missed her piano back home, but that wasn’t exactly an instrument she could lug around the base. 

Gino looked up again, squinted in the princess’s direction, and then turned his attention back to Kallen before shrugging. “Yeah, why?”

Kallen nearly sputtered, her grip on her instrument slipping slightly before she caught it again. “ _Why_? She’s— she’s Britannia’s national fencing champion two years running despite her age? They say she inherited her mother’s skill with a blade, and Lady Marianne is _legendary_.” Not to mention the rumors of her as a _Liedmeister_ , like something unusual and supernatural that couldn’t be explained away and was instead hidden. 

Looking at the weave of precious metals and jewels in her hair, the rumors must have been true, because only _Liedmeisters_ were authorized to wear those interwoven and complicated crowns, although Kallen didn’t recall seeing Princess Nunnally with any of those ornamentations during her showings on television. Of course, it would be far too much to wear underneath the mask, but there should have at least been _some_ indication somehow. 

...Not to mention the current wheelchair. 

Kallen knew she was staring, but couldn’t seem to help it. Of all people, she hadn’t expected the young princess in her music lessons. 

“Yeah, you do _not_ want to get her mad,” Gino agreed amiably, “you think Rolo’s scary, you should actually see Princess Nunnally when she’s angry. I’ve only ever seen it once, and at a distance, but… well, I can pretty much confirm that man learned his lesson.”

“But what is she doing _here_?” Kallen hissed at him. 

At that, Gino finally seemed to realize that Kallen must be missing some vital information, since he looked gobsmacked. “...Of course she’s here? She’s Prince Lelouch’s sister?”

“Obviously,” Kallen drawled with a frown. 

“No, I meant— _sister_. Not half-sister. She’s been with the Black Knights from the start, just in disguise at first. Him and a lot of the Black Knights have been to every one of her fencing championships. You know. He’s Lady Marianne’s son.”

That made her jerk back in surprise, because she hadn’t expected that piece of information. While Kallen did idolize Lady Marianne the same way that any young girl saw images of an older actress and wanted to be just like them (although it was probably a little different with Marianne), she hadn’t been obsessed enough to follow any information on her family other than the fact that she married into the royal family, had children, and died with rumors of assassination. 

The only reason she even knew Princess Nunnally was Lady Marianne’s daughter was due to the similar methods in their fighting style, and Princess Nunnally’s rise to fame in a sport that Kallen greatly respected, not to mention commentators who brought up the relation at every turn.

“I mean,” Gino scratched at the back of his head, “haven’t you seen them around together?”

She hadn’t, but then again, Kallen rarely saw much of Prince Lelouch at all, and she suspected that he was still avoiding her. 

The music tutor cleared his throat at the front, and everyone’s attention switched back to him. Even Kallen raised her clarinet studiously for the duration of the lesson, which involved learning a few songs she didn’t know but was required to know as part of the Black Knights. It was a relentless lesson, with little time to breathe, let alone even learn the identities of the others in her musical group other than the ones she already knew.

“Sir Kozuki,” the tutor said after their hour was up, “stay behind.”

On the one hand, it thrilled her to be addressed by that name— by that name and that _title_ , which she earned fair and square being the top of her class. 

“Don’t worry,” Gino told her as he packed his tuba, “you’ll probably get some sheet music to practice with and some extra lessons until you’re caught up to everyone else, but you seem pretty familiar with music.”

“My mother had me learn the piano since before I can remember,” Kallen admitted to him, a finger stroking down her clarinet before she packed it away, “I used to play for her and my brother when I was younger.”

“Better than me!” He told her cheerfully, “I was never any good with music. Had lessons, but I never thought I’d actually need them.”

He stood from his seat and gave her a heavy pat on the shoulder, “Good luck with Maestro Rossi. He’s pretty mean, but he’s also managed to get everyone caught up to speed.”

Gino left her behind, and Kallen found herself feeling awkward as she stepped up toward the music tutor, only to find him conversing quietly with Princess Nunnally, with Sir Haliburton standing behind her at the handles of her wheelchair. 

“A moment, please,” Princess Nunnally told the tutor softly, and he inclined his head before handing her a sheaf of music and stepped away. Kallen moved to follow him, but was stopped as the young princess smiled at her. “Sir Kozuki, was it? I’d like to have a moment of your time, if that’s alright with you.”

She looked so sweet there, smiling and demure with her hands folded on her lap, atop a white blanket that was tucked around a pink dress, with little curls of dark blonde hair framing the sides of her face, slipping out sweetly around the silvery coronet woven around her head. Here, she looked nothing like the blur of white from the television screens, and Kallen felt very overwhelmed. 

On the other hand, Sir Haliburton glaring at her from behind Princess Nunnally was certainly a familiar sight, and enough to ground her again. 

“Of course, Your Highness,” Kallen told her, more warmth in her tone than she intended. 

“Here,” the princess told her, handing over the sheaf of music, “this is for you. I’m afraid I asked Maestro Rossi for it just so I could give it to you myself. I’ve been remiss recently and never managed to greet you properly this past week, but I’d like to change that.”

Kallen flushed slightly as she took the papers, “...I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Your Highness.”

“Have I? That won’t do at all. I’d like to even out the playing field a little, then. Is there anything I can do in that regard?”

Kallen felt gobsmacked as the younger girl smiled at her, and for a moment all her vivid accomplishments faded in the background to this little princess who seemed to have her life so much more together despite being years younger. 

“I,” her eyes darted to the wheelchair for a split second before she looked back directly at the princess, and she felt ashamed, “I feel like you’ve read my file.”

“Of course,” Princess Nunnally confirmed, and Sir Haliburton pushed her along back towards the temporary seating area where they held their music lessons, settling her behind her harp again as she smiled and thanked him sweetly. “You’re my brother’s new Knight of Honor. That makes you practically family.”

Kallen followed along, clutching at her papers, “...I’m afraid he might not think the same way.”

“Because you think he’s been avoiding you?” The princess asked. She laid a hand on the polished wood of her instrument, running it down along the side gently. “Or because you feel he disapproves of you?”

Both, if Kallen was honest with herself, although she wasn’t sure she could say that aloud. 

“Lelouch has been very busy recently,” Princess Nunnally told her without waiting for an answer, and Kallen breathed out a relief. “C.C.’s been monopolizing his time, in all honesty. Things have changed recently, and we’re all still adjusting to it.”

Like his previous knight, Kallen thought with a burning question on her tongue that she knew she couldn’t ask. She also wondered about the wheelchair, but that would be too insensitive a question, especially when it was obvious that the injury came after the Blight did. There were no more sports broadcasts after that. 

“I’m sure he’ll find time for you soon enough,” Nunnally said, although the words seemed more spoken to herself, before she turned to Kallen once more with that genial smile, “and in the meanwhile, I’d love to get to know you better.”

Kallen managed a shaky smile back, “There’s not much to know, Your Highness.”

The princess only shook her head and patted the seat next to her, and Kallen sat as directed, noting that the princess was much smaller than her, especially up close. She and Rolo seemed close to the same size, and the younger knight was watching her closely, carefully. 

“How long have you played the clarinet, Sir Kozuki?” Princess Nunnally asked, her hands still over the strings of her harp. She nodded toward the carrying case. “You do it very well.”

“Most… most of my life,” Kallen admitted, “my mother loved music. She would send me and my brother to tutors whenever possible, and— I had a knack for it.”

This brought what looked like a more genuine smile from the princess, as she said, “That’s the same with my family. Mother encouraged us with music at all turns, and my brother and I attended more music lessons than I’d be able to recall. Our family is known for it, after all, and we had a reputation to live up to.”

“It’s an amazing skill,” Kallen ventured carefully, not sure where the conversation was going.

“Yes,” the younger princess said, and looked toward her harp, the smile dropping from her face slowly. “It is amazing, isn’t it?”

There was something almost bitter about those words, and Kallen refrained from asking, feeling like she touched upon a sensitive subject. 

“But that’s not what we’re here to talk about,” the princess said brightly, blank expression gone within the next instant. “Is it alright if I call you Kallen? I’d prefer if you called me by name as well, but I understand if you feel you can’t— Jeremiah still calls us by title, and he’s cared for us since we were very young.”

“That’s fine with me,” Kallen was quick to reassure her, “Kallen is fine, Your High— er. Princess Nunnally.”

“It’s an unusual name,” the princess noted, ignoring the slip. “I like it. What makes it different than the name that was put down on paper? Karen Stadtfeld, wasn’t it?”

Kallen’s smile strained at the edges. “...Yes.”

“The Stadtfeld family is rather well known. Enough that it was known to me even before you came that they had only one heiress— yet you’ve given up that name.” Princess Nunnally tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “do you mind me asking why?”

She debated for a moment with the story, but there was no point in hiding it. “My mother put me down as ‘Kallen’ when I was born… she’s Japanese, and has… trouble, when she speaks English, between some sounds. Back then, my father thought it was unique and decided to keep it like that. He changed his mind before the invasion.”

“Were you there?” Nunnally asked quietly, and Kallen swallowed down her own discomfort. 

“...No,” she admitted reluctantly, “my father moved us away for— a business trip— when it happened.”

They had come back to a devastated Japan, and her life had never been the same. 

It was only one of many stories where Britannia bullied the rest of the world into compliance, asserting its dominance over those who couldn’t fight back. 

Nunnally made a humming noise and strummed her harp for a few moments, the sounds beautiful but ultimately just noises that didn’t fit in together. 

“I think,” she finally said after a moment of thought, “that you and my brother would actually get along very well together. A lot more so than you might think. And maybe far more than he would expect as well.”

Kallen wasn’t sure she wanted to get along with him, but she needed to at least be allowed to stay around him if she wanted to do her job right.

“If you say so,” she said, uncertain. The princess smiled at her, and looked ready to turn away when Kallen spoke up suddenly, feeling bad for the question but unable to hold back her curiosity, and the fact that Princess Nunnally seemed… well, nowhere as pretentious (and somehow strangely intimidating, although she would never admit it) as her brother. “If you don’t mind me commenting… you don’t seem very much like Prince Lelouch, Your Highness.”

Princess Nunnally turned her attention back to Kallen, expression still soft and a little curious. “...Don’t I?”

Kallen shook her head. 

“Well,” the small princess said, “we do have many siblings. Sometimes it almost feels too many to count. We can’t all be very similar to each other. I’ve heard many families are very different from each other— that’s what funds family therapy, isn’t it?”

That made sense, of course. Yet it had just been the way Gino introduced Princess Nunnally that made Kallen think— well, as if he expected her to see their resemblance from the beginning. There was something calm and heavy about the presence she gave off that was similar to Prince Lelouch, but her smile was so much gentler that Kallen wouldn’t have placed them together. 

“I have been told that we’re very similar before,” Princess Nunnally said, reaching to pat Kallen soothingly on her hand just a moment, still smiling, “I suppose that’s what happens when you grow up together. You had a brother too, didn’t you, Sir Kozuki?”

It was awkward knowing that her file must have been on display, and Kallen just shrugged stiffly. 

“I’m sure you’ve picked up characteristics from him,” she said, “things he said, things he did… it’s impossible not to, I think. That’s just how siblings are, whether you love them or hate them. You just… do what they do, because you understand them, and because you’re so familiar with them.”

Princess Nunnally broke off to think a moment before she continued, “I’m sure, Sir Kozuki, you’ll eventually find that my brother and I are more similar than you originally thought. Whether I’m more like him, or he’s more like me, you’ll have to make that judgement later.”

—

In the end, she was the one who barged into his private quarters, because who the hell did he think he was, anyway? As his Knight of Honor, she had every right to be in whatever room he was in, and she had every right to be a part of his decisions, and be that on his own head, because Kallen had only ever expected to be inducted into the Black Knights, not as a _Knight of Honor_. 

She was taking initiative, and it was her _right_ to do so, because he made it her right. 

“You High—” she called out indignantly the moment she pushed through his door, and was then sputtering as a half-dressed woman— the green-haired one from before, stopped not two inches from her face, and gave a confused blink, before slowly smirking. 

“Lelouch,” the woman called out, turning her torso just enough for Kallen to see into the dip of the mostly unbuttoned dress shirt, placed just so to let people know that she wandering around without a bra. The hem of the shirt was dangerously short on her bare thighs, and she wasn’t even wearing— socks. “Your knight is here to see you.”

Kallen couldn’t help the embarrassed flush on her cheeks, because— she should have knocked, she really should have, except she originally thought that even if she caught the prince in an embarrassing situation, then she would have something to hold over his head and at least make him listen to her. 

“Witch,” came the grumbled response from further in the room, and Kallen finally tore her eyes from the smirking green-haired woman’s figure, over to see Prince Lelouch sitting on the bench before a gleaming dark baby grand piano, impeccably dressed in a black suit with thick red detailings on the lapels. “Stop stealing my clothes.”

“Well, I don’t think Sir Gottwald would be very happy if I left your rooms without this shirt,” the woman responded casually, leaning against the doorway suggestively. 

“Then put on your own clothes, and stop giving everyone on the base a show.”

The green-haired woman only smiled, and tugged the top of the shirt open wider. “...No.”

“Maybe,” Kallen finally managed to get out weakly, “I’ll come back later.”

That only seemed to make the other woman laugh, “Oh no, don’t do that. Your little talk has been overdue already. Maybe you can slap some sense into him. He certainly won’t take advice from me anymore.”

“Maybe if you stop trying to give Jeremiah a heart attack first!”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” the woman told Kallen, amused, “he’s emotionally stunted. Bad break-up. It would have been easier if he were a teenage girl, and then we could just console him with ice cream and a break-up playlist—”

There was a slam of piano keys that jolted through her brain, and Prince Lelouch told her sweetly from his seat, “Get out, C.C.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” the woman sing-songed, and then brushed past Kallen with a sly smile, closing the door behind her to leave Kallen and Lelouch in the same room together. 

“What do you need, Sir Kozuki?” Prince Lelouch asked, and Kallen snapped out of her embarrassment to remember the reason why she was there in the first place. She stepped forward once again, to snap her heels together in a picture perfect pose of a knight with her hands behind her back as she stopped at the piano. 

“Your schedule, sir.” She told him brusquely. 

“I’m certainly you’ve already been handed your own.”

Kallen grimaced. “Not mine, Your Highness. Yours. As your Knight of Honor, my duties fall under protecting you first and foremost before my duties with the Black Knights.”

She was tired of the curious glances from the other Black Knights, too polite to ask her why she was hanging out with _them_ instead of doing her job. And she was tired of having to keep the information that she was with them because Prince Lelouch apparently wanted nothing to do with her, despite having knighted her himself. 

Gino told her that the only way to grab Prince Lelouch’s attention was to get it herself rather than waiting on him, so that was what she would do. 

“I don’t require a babysitter, Sir Kozuki,” he told her, and seemed to dismiss her by turning his attention back to the piano. “Your aim was a position as a knight of the Empire to protect your loved ones, and I had a vacant spot. That’s all.”

Kallen felt her temper flare, “With all due respect, Your Highness, it would be a short term position if you were to come to harm on my first week on the job.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” he dismissed, but she slammed her palms down on the edge of the piano, the _thump_ drawing his attention again. 

“If you wanted a negligent Knight of Honor,” she told him seriously, “then you shouldn’t have chosen me. Your schedule… please. Sir.”

He didn’t seem in the least bit intimidated by her irritation, expression still as slack as ever, although he did sit up just an inch straighter away from the piano, and then admit, “You were right, Rolo.”

Kallen’s grip on the piano slacked. “Huh?”

“She needs to work on her reflexes,” a familiar voice said just behind her, and Kallen gave a startled yelp as she turned sharply to see the younger boy from before staring at her, standing not two steps away with his hands at his sides, looking young and unintimidating, and yet— he managed to sneak up behind her in a nearly silent room, while she had been sure that the only two people there were her and the prince. 

Prince Lelouch gave a soft snort, and the beginning melody of the Moonlight Sonata started up, the chords resounding from the baby grand piano. “Threats do not come from the obvious sources, Sir Kozuki. Only amateurs would make threat displays where others can see, and where it can easily be deflected.”

Kallen kept a wary eye on the boy— Rolo— as he stepped around her, going to sit next to the prince on the piano seat, although he stayed stationary after that, watching her instead with eerie violet eyes. 

“Beethoven, C sharp minor,” he said quietly. 

“Very good, Rolo,” Prince Lelouch told him, continuing to play, and then directed his next question at Kallen, “and what instruments do you play, Sir Kozuki?”

“I…” she frowned, thrown off by the dynamics and uncertainty, sure that this boy was a threat and yet— “Piano. As well. And the clarinet. Electric guitar for fun.”

There was a discord as the prince stopped playing, and Rolo was now frowning up at her. 

“The clarinet will do,” the prince told her, and then stood from his seat. “Rolo will provide you the schedule you desire. You will train with him, and with Sir Weinberg, until the two of them deem you passable. Afternoons will be spent with Dr. Chawla. Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays are music lessons.”

“But my music lessons are Tuesdays and Fridays,” she said. 

He gave her a dry smile. “Not anymore.”

He closed the lid on his piano, and gathered some sheet music to take with him, stepping around the chair and— it was strange to see him standing, because at full height he was actually taller than Kallen, while somehow she always expected him to be… not small, per say, but Prince Lelouch seemed rather quiet and diminished in the time she had been there. 

....Broken-hearted, almost. 

“Your Highness,” she said, just before he could leave, and she hesitated for a moment, wondering if C.C.’s words had been true. Wondering if Gino’s words had been true. “What… happened to my predecessor, if I may ask? Sir… Kururugi, was it?”

Prince Lelouch’s expression didn’t change, but Kallen thought she could sense his displeasure. 

“He’s fine,” he told her, “still serving the royal family, even. Last I heard, he was in Cambodia. I won’t say that he would be happy to hear from you, but if you feel you must, I’m sure Schneizel can provide you his contact information.”

That sounded— odd. Kallen shook her head, “No, Your Highness. That’s fine.”

“If that will be all, then,” he said, and nodded toward her once in respect before leaving. 

There was something strange about the way the other Black Knights didn’t seem to want to talk about Sir Kururugi, and Kallen thought that they just didn’t want to acknowledge his death, yet no one would outright say that he died, and now Prince Lelouch was telling her that his previous Knight of Honor was— just fine.

Something just didn’t add up. 

Rolo was still staring at her, and Kallen braced herself to deal with the eerie teenager who could have walked off the set of a horror movie. 

“You shouldn’t ask about Sir Kururugi,” Rolo told her, still sitting at the piano. “There’s a reason he’s not here anymore.”

“What?” Kallen asked him, because as much as she felt like she didn’t want to know, she’d have to. Had he broken some unspoken rule? Done something terrible? Suffered an injury that put him out of commission?

“He broke his oath,” Rolo told her, and then finally looked away. “Don’t ask Lelouch about him ever again. He has nothing to do with you, other than the fact that you’re here because he’s gone. You have a lot of work ahead of you if you want to be a decent Knight of Honor. Don’t waste your energy on things that are irrelevant.”

“I’d say it’s pretty damned relevant to me if I’m getting treated differently because of him,” Kallen snapped back, although she took a deep breath afterwards. “I’d rather not do what he did. Sounds like he messed up.”

“He didn’t,” Rolo said, and this time he was quieter. “He did what he needed to.”

It was a strange juxtaposition to his previous words, although Rolo seemed to shake off the melancholy a split second later. 

“Your training,” Rolo said again, and then smiled coldly as he stood from the piano. “Starts now.”

— 

Thanks to the Knights of Rounds, Kallen spent a brief stint in Area 8, in what had to be the most useless and boring missing of all time as she spent the majority of the time _getting_ there, and then _waiting_ in the Guren as back-up while the Glinda Knights ripped things apart, and then _getting_ back to the Black Knight base. 

“You!” Kallen shouted out when she saw Gino again, as she was still ripping the gloves from her flight suit. “Wait right there!”

Gino, across the hanger, looked around him and then pointed to himself curiously, which only served to irritate Kallen more because _of course_ he knew she was talking to him. Who else could she have been calling for in the nearly empty hanger?

Luckily, he did seem content enough to wait for her, a grin ready as she approached, and he asked, “Miss me already—?” 

She reached up to grab him by the lapels of his uniform, not glad that there were barely anyone in the hanger, “Who the _hell_ is Kururugi?”

“Whoa, not what I thought you were going to ask,” Gino said, hands up defensively. “I was hoping for a little more along the lines of, ‘hey Gino, you wouldn’t believe all the things I saw that reminded me of you when I left’ and then I could—” 

“Yes, yes,” she hurried him, “I saw a garbage dump of banana peels and thought of you. Now answer my question, Weinberg!”

“Yikes,” the other knight of honor said, although he still looked nonchalant, “guess nothing bad happened during your mission. That’s good.”

That pulled her short, and for some reason, Kallen wanted to ask if anything bad happened during _his_ mission, which didn’t make sense because she couldn’t care either way. 

“Besides,” Gino continued amiably, “I’m pretty sure you know who Kururugi is by now.”

Kallen let go of his lapels, a little disappointed that he didn’t seem as easily distressed as before, and somehow a little concerned by his rather mild behavior. “Prince Lelouch’s former Knight of Honor. The one no one will talk about, but keep _comparing_ me to!”

She took a step back and frowned, tone mocking as she recalled Rakshata’s words, “‘If _that boy_ can learn, then so can you’, or just— looking at me like I shouldn’t be here at all. And I get all these cryptic responses, like he’s now in _Cambodia_ or he reneged his oath, or—” 

“He _is_ in Cambodia,” Gino said, straightening his shirt, and then at the incredulous look on Kallen’s face, he sighed. “I talk to him daily. Let’s… find somewhere else to talk. It’s not really my story to tell, and I’m sure I don’t know all the details… but you deserve to know a few things, at least. It wasn’t as if anything was a secret, people just— didn’t want to bring it up.”

He managed to hassle her out of the hanger and towards one of the smaller rooms on the Black Knight base, the first one occupied by several people playing cards and the second one actually empty of stragglers. 

Kallen sat gingerly in the small room, and folded her arms with a glare. “Talk.”

“Look, I was late to the game myself, okay?” Gino told her, sitting down heavily after he closed the door behind him. The room was a tiny one, likely meant just for someone to relax with a book or take a nap. There were a few rooms like that scattered across the mobiles bases for the Black Knights, and Kallen thinks that they might all actually be small music rooms to practice in. 

He rubbed at his face, suddenly looking tired, but continued, “I’ve only been a Knight of Honor for about a year or so. Suzaku— that is, Sir Kururugi— he’s been one almost half his life. I’m not saying he’s old, I’m saying from what I’ve heard? He was Prince Lelouch’s Knight of Honor when they were _ten_. I don’t know what you might know about the royal court in Pendragon, but it’s— well, they don’t like outsiders. Pretty much all of them. And Suzaku was as much an outsider as he could get, except with the power afforded to— a Knight of Honor for a _Liedmeister_ , you know? Which is kind of a lot of power.”

Kallen was frowning. “That’s… how have I not heard about this?” A Japanese Knight of Honor? For so long?

“Because the big shots don’t want you to know. There’s no recording for either Suzaku’s knighting ceremony or even Prince Lelouch’s inauguration as a _Liedmeister_. How do you think Zero managed to stay so mysterious? Outside the court, it’s not that widespread, because people didn’t like talking about it. They don’t like _admitting_ he exists. And people weren’t nice to him at Court, either. They couldn’t— get in his face about it, but it was pretty obvious. In a ‘constantly picked last for the team’ way. But he toughed it out, probably by being that perfect Knight of Honor. No blemishes on his record or anything.”

“So how come he’s gone now?” Kallen asked, subdued. 

Gino rubbed at the side of his head. “Ahhh… that’s a little harder to explain.”

“I’ve got all day.”

“There was an accident,” Gino said slowly, thinking his words through, “and due to an unfortunate circumstance, Suzaku was… exposed. To the Blight. So now he’s in Cambodia, and they’re trying to fix everything!”

“Wait, wait,” Kallen interrupted, “that doesn’t explain _anything_! You just said he’s been a Knight of Honor for— years!”

“Yes,” Gino admitted reluctantly. 

“How can a Knight of Honor be affected by the Blight? They’re supposed to be as immune as the royal family.” Kallen paused, and then thought for a moment before adding hesitantly, “Unless he was… not loyal…?”

“He _was_.” Gino insisted, those words hard for a split second that had Kallen taken aback. “He is! He still—” The blond cut off, making a frustrated noise as he rubbed hard against his head, trying to come up with an explanation that didn’t delve too deeply into things he had no business talking about. “He still asks after Prince Lelouch, you know. Every day. They were— they were really close. And that’s the thing. That’s why no one wants to talk about it. No one wants to bring it up in case Prince Lelouch just happens to— walk by, or something, because he doesn’t deserve to have to hear about this over and over. He doesn’t— _want_ to, and he shouldn’t have to.”

Kallen thought a moment about Rolo’s flat insistence that she not bring up Kururugi to Prince Lelouch, ever, and then asked, “And that kid— Rolo— how come he calls the prince by name, anyway?”

When everyone else on the base, and even Gino, still called him by title (with the exception of that strange green-haired woman). 

“Yeah, Rolo is Princess Nunnally’s Knight of Honor, and he’s been around for a while, too.” Gino gave a shrug. “It’s a thing. When you’re a Knight of Honor, you’re pretty much family.”

Kallen’s lips twisted downward. “...I’m not.”

“I’m sure he’ll warm up to you,” Gino insisted, although this time the response came slower. “It’s just… like I said, they were close.”

“You still haven’t explained how he was affected by the Blight,” Kallen groused, because it was _important_ now. She was here because of the immunity that was supposedly given to knights, and if that wasn’t true… “Or why he has to be in Cambodia now— or _what_ they’re doing, if he’s infected, but fine!”

Gino made a pitchy, frustrated sound again. “It’s a complicated story!”

“Then simplify it for me,” she told him slowly, enunciating each word carefully with narrowed eyes. 

He scratched at his cheek briefly. “...Okay. Okay. I’m Princess Euphemia’s Knight of Honor. She grew up with Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally, so we visit a lot. A while back, there was this— accident. Earthquake. Prince Lelouch was really badly hurt, and the location was— bad. Surrounded entirely by Spectres. Um.”

He huffed out a breath, and Kallen watched him carefully. 

“So the thing is, with some of the royals, they tend to… have more immunity than others? With Prince Lelouch, it’s like a wall. You’re not just immune, the Spectres won’t even be able to touch you. Like— two repelling magnets. He was badly hurt, he was surrounded by Spectres, and Suzaku couldn’t— get through. So he did the only thing he could.”

Gino frowned, obviously not happy with the memories. “...He reneged his oath, just so he could get through. And, um. He did it. He saved Prince Lelouch. But going through a whole wall of Spectres, that… took a toll.”

“He was infected by the Blight,” Kallen summarized, starting to get a sense of things. 

“Yeah,” Gino confirmed. “And once you break your vow, you can’t swear to the same prince or princess again. It just won’t work. Like something’s broken between you, or at least that’s the sense that I got. So Euphie— that is, Princess Euphemia, she got him to swear a vow to her. It was… pretty bad. That oath very likely saved his life then, and it’s what’s keeping him— safe, now.”

Gino took a deep breath. “...And that’s the short version of it. Euphie’s in Cambodia, so Suzaku’s in Cambodia with her. And since Prince Lelouch was down a Knight of Honor, I promised Euphie I’d look after him, at least until his new knight was ready to take over.”

Kallen sat back, sombered by the information. “...That’s why he’s heartbroken.”

“What, Prince Lelouch? Yeah, that’s pretty much it. You’re really amazing, Kallen. I’m sure that you’ll be a great Knight of Honor, too, but right now— I just don’t think he wants a new knight. He needs one, but he doesn’t _want_ one, and that’s not fair to you.”

Kallen thought over the reactions of the people around her, and then about the times she inferred Kururugi to have failed in his duty, and winced. 

Gino gave her a minute to digest all of that, and then said, “Look, don’t bring it up with Prince Lelouch. I don’t even bring it up that I talk to Suzaku. Of course he knows, since I call Princess Euphemia every day, but… I don’t bring it up.”

“Why not?” That was the remaining part she couldn’t figure out. “If they’re such good friends, then how come— are they not speaking to each other now? Everyone’s walking on eggshells like he _died_ or something. Is he dying?”

“No, he’s getting better,” Gino said. 

“Then why all the melodrama?” Kallen asked. “It’s like a bad break-up.” 

Which was exactly what C.C. said, now that she thought of it. 

“Yeah, I don’t ask about that,” Gino said, as if he could tell what she was thinking. “We just kind of… leave it be. We’re all kept busy with what’s happening in the world. But now you know.”

Kallen grimaced, and agreed, “...Now I know.”

— 

It was strangely easy to get back into Prince Lelouch’s good graces now that Kallen knew what happened. Or at least, easier to give him the space that he wanted, which meant that he relaxed a bit around her as well now that Kallen was shadowing him in his full schedule, as was her duty all along. 

In the meanwhile, Kallen wrote a letter to her mother… and then tore it up before she was finished. Instead, she wrote a brief email to Ohgi, telling her that she succeeded, and to take care of her mother for her. She shut down the application before she could possibly receive a reply. 

She was getting better at catching out Rolo when he tried to sneak around her, that rascal. Now that she knew specifically what to listen for, it was easier for her to catch the footsteps of people who were deliberately attempting to sound silent, and differentiate with those who just stepped quietly. 

“Good,” he told her when she informed him of this, and even Gino gave a proud whistle. 

“Not often Rolo gives out a compliment,” he told her with a grin, leaning towards them over a short bookcase. “This should be a day marked in history.”

And with her music lessons rescheduled, Kallen found herself meeting more with Princess Nunnally as well, who tended to share her lessons with her brother, and it was— odd. Prince Lelouch was softer in his sister’s presence, and even Rolo’s cold exterior seemed to melt away to a drastic change as he and Princess Nunnally sat on each of Prince Lelouch’s sides. 

She had given Gino a bewildered look the first time she saw, but he just grinned and shrugged, mouthing ‘you get used to it’. 

Twice more the Black Knights moved to a new location and would set up a— well, the best way she could describe it would be ‘ _trap’_ , for the Spectres. Lure them all into a desolate area, activate the Gefjun Disruptors, and get the hell out of dodge while Prince Lelouch did his thing. 

It remained incredible to watch each time, and her comments manage to help her form a hesitant bond with Sir Jeremiah Gottwald, who acted as Prince Lelouch’s proxy with the Black Knights whenever he was away. 

“He was kind of like our babysitter growing up,” Princess Nunnally admitted to her, “Jeremiah’s part of the family, too, really, and he’s been the one looking after Lelouch before you got here. I don’t know what we’d do without him.”

Kallen could understand that, a little. She was being shipped out more and more often under the orders of Sir Waldstein, who had continually requisitioned knights from various princes and princesses for missions as time went on, and she had to leave Prince Lelouch behind more than a handful of times now in order to follow the orders of some old jerk who never even showed his face. During those times, it was Sir Gottwald who saw her off with the somber promise of looking after the prince, and then Sir Gottwald who stood by Prince Lelouch when she returned. 

“Why didn’t His Highness just— take Sir Gottwald as his Knight of Honor, then?” Kallen asked. 

Nunnally gave her a bemused look. “If you were to take a Knight of Honor, would you take a parent figure?”

She thought only a moment, and then visibly grimaced. No, she most certainly would not. It wasn’t the love and trust missing in that circumstance, but the— lack of privacy, likely. The need to constantly push away. She couldn’t imagine having her mother around all the time, hovering over her, and _allowed_ that because it would actually be her job. She thought of how she demanded Prince Lelouch’s schedule from him, and how she was _allowed_ to do that.

“Yes,” Nunnally confirmed with an amused quirk of her lips. “That’s exactly it.”

It finally came a time when Gino and Kallen managed to land the same mission together, overseeing a small town evacuation in Vietnam (and she still didn’t know why they were doing this, or why Sir Waldstein was even allowed to take control of Knights of Honor like this for such trivial things), nearly four months after Kallen’s initial arrival to the Black Knights, when Gino finally asked her to wait. 

“Wait for what?” Kallen asked, bewildered, and Gino sent her a series of coordinates for her Knightmare. 

“We’re close,” he told her, almost pleadingly, and added, “It won’t take more than an hour. We can say we were delayed by wind shear.”

In the past several months, Gino remained an upbeat and positive presence on her, and Kallen found that she couldn’t seem to deny him this, although she didn’t understand what ‘this’ was. The Guren followed after the Tristen this time, until they made it to an empty field out in the outskirts of what looked like a military compound, with some figures down below staring up at them. As they got closer, Kallen noted the white Knight of Honor uniform on one, and the long, billowing hair on another. 

The Tristen landed within meters of the figures, and Gino barely managed to power down his Knightmare before he jumped straight out, foregoing the hangline entirely to run toward the figures and pick up the woman with a whoop, swinging her around as she laughed delightedly. 

Kallen took her time powering down the Guren, stepping out cautiously as she eyed the pink-haired woman wearily as Gino grinned at her, bombarding her with question after question in such rapid-fire that she seemed to have trouble answering, as she was laughing too hard at his words. 

“Kallen!” Gino called out when she was on the ground again, and waved her over with a grin. Kallen found herself scowling lightly, although she did step over to them. 

“Let me introduce you,” he said brightly, arms still lifting the sweet-looking pink haired woman, and he tilted his head towards her without putting her down, “this is Third Princess of the Empire, Euphemia li Britannia, _Liedmeister_. She is simply the most amazing person you will _ever_ know, and one of the most accomplished, not to say the least!”

She was giggling, one hand over her mouth and one hand steadying herself on Gino’s shoulder, and Kallen startled as she realized that _this_ was the famed princess Gino was serving under. Gino only waxed poetic about her all the time, but— for some reason, she hadn’t been… _real_ in Kallen’s head. If such a perfect princess did exist, then why was Gino not by her side, then, she had wondered. Why stay so long with Prince Lelouch, especially as Kallen learned everything she needed to as a Knight of Honor? Despite the manuels, the Knightmare practice, the music lessons, the etiquette lessons, and everything else, Kallen managed to soak it all up like a sponge. 

“You must be Sir Kozuki,” Princess Euphemia greeted her with a brilliant smile, “I’ve heard so much about you! Gino has nothing but amazing things to say.”

“A-Ah, you as well, Your Highness,” Kallen said, and gave an awkward little curtsy in her flight suit. 

“And this,” Gino continued, although he never put the princess down, “is Sir Suzaku Kururugi.”

The man standing behind Princess Euphemia, impeccably dressed with tousled brown hair and bright green eyes, was watching her intensely. Kallen felt almost like a bug under a microscope under his gaze, and she couldn’t help but stare back, because— 

This was him. Her predecessor. The one who _still_ had the Black Knights in such disarray the moment she tried to bring him up, the one Prince Lelouch would not hear anything about, and— 

Now that she studied him, she could see the marks under his skin, not black as she was used to with the Blight, but an ashen grey color that seemed sickly, spread like a web of veins from his collar up his neck. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” she told him, feeling a little defensive. 

“You as well, Sir Kozuki,” he said, manners impeccable as he dipped his head, the perfect stance of a Knight of Honor with his hands laced behind his back, feet shoulders width apart and stance slightly favoring the side with the exposed gold pummel of his sword.

_Sheesh_ , Kallen thought, and realized she had to up her training if this was what Prince Lelouch was used to. What kind of robotic perfection was that, anyway? She hoped he didn’t stand that straight all the time, her back was starting to ache just looking at him. 

“—and I can’t believe you’re sneaking time just to come here,” Princess Euphemia was laughing, “Lelouch is going to be so mad at you! Wasting energy fillers and all— you could have just called ahead! Suzaku and I could have taken a small visit and meet you where you were instead!”

“But I did call ahead!” Gino protested, “I gave you enough warning to get here, didn’t I?”

She laughed again, voice like the twinkling of bells, and Kallen thought she disliked the perfect cotton candy princess already. 

“Anyway,” Gino continued, and this time he seemed to be addressing both Kallen and Suzaku as well, “this is just a brief reunion. First meeting? I figured it’d be good for you guys to meet each other— it’s been four months already, and neither of you have spoken to each other. Kallen, see? Suzaku _is_ alive! And Suzaku,” he said teasingly, addressing the other Knight of Honor, “for some reason, she thought something awful happened to you and we were all just covering it up. For _so long_.”

Kallen sputtered slightly at the accusation, although the Japanese boy only seemed to take that in stride. 

“I can understand where you’d get that assumption,” he said, entirely serious. 

“Yeah,” Kallen admitted reluctantly, shifting her stance awkwardly, “I got a thorough dressing down about that. I’ve only heard great things about you— all the Black Knights hold you in really high esteem. Rakshata likes to compare us to motivate me, probably because she thinks you’re just— better.”

It was a weird compromise and admission, and she waited to see his reaction to it. 

“And Lelouch?” He asked instead, catching her off guard. 

“Eh?”

“Prince Lelouch,” Sir Kururugi elaborated slowly, “what did he have to say?”

She hadn’t expected him to be— informal with the prince, for some reason, despite knowing that they had been close friends. It had been months, but Kallen still referred to the prince with all his honorifics, staying on the side of formality with Rolo closely watching her every mishap. For some reason, she just assumed that was how it always was, and would always be. 

“He, ah,” she stammered out, because she had been expecting him to ask about the rest of the Black Knights who had so many good things to say about him, wanting to know the happenings of his friends. Prince Lelouch was still silent on the matter of his former Knight of Honor, and Kallen wasn’t sure what to say. 

Kururugi’s wry smile seemed to understand. “...So that’s how it is.”

“Don’t be like that, Suzaku,” Gino wheedled, pausing his conversation with Princess Euphemia, whom he finally managed to put down, the princess still flushed with happiness from seeing her Knight of Honor. “You know how Prince Lelouch is like. He’s stubborn, but he’ll come around. You’re one of the few people he really cares for.”

Princess Euphemia’s smile drooped a little as well, which made Kallen curious, although she didn’t think she could ask. 

Kururugi was still staring at her, as if measuring her worth, and he said easily, “Of course.”

Honestly, Kallen was starting to get a little freaked out by that stare, and she was about to snap at him about his _problem_ with her when he seemed to break his stance, reaching into his pocket to withdraw a small white box, only an inch high, although it was maybe three inches wide on each side, offering it out to her.

Kallen stared blankly for a moment, and then looked up to him for an explanation. 

“For Lelouch,” Kururugi said quietly. “We— missed his last birthday.”

Kallen hadn’t even been aware that the prince had a birthday since she arrived, and she hoped it was before she managed to integrate herself with the Black Knights. She accepted the small box gingerly, noting it’s delicate weight.

“I’ll,” she didn’t know why she felt so awkward, like she stepped right in the middle of a situation she didn’t understand, “I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“Good,” Kururugi said quietly, but as Kallen moved to step back with the box, he reached lightning fast to grab her by the wrist, making her tense and automatically move to reach for her blade. 

“He doesn’t like being disturbed before seven in the morning,” Kururugi said in fluent Japanese, and Kallen leaned back at the unexpected sound of her native language, narrowing her eyes. 

“Won’t eat junk food,” Kururugi continued, as if he hadn’t noticed her tension, “sometimes he forgets to eat at all if he doesn’t have scheduled meals with Nunnally, and he’s definitely picky enough that sometimes you have to let him— cook, or else he won’t touch the food. If he can’t sleep, then he’ll just— move to the fireplace. And he keeps doing paperwork, until he falls asleep out there, and is cold in the morning. There’s a blanket over the armchair that you need to… well.”

He cut off awkwardly, and Kallen thinks she’s now finally starting to get a clearer picture, because something about the mother-henning words was just… different. 

“You have to take care of him,” Kururugi pleaded, still in Japanese, “he’s so focused on the world that he doesn’t remember he can… get hurt, too.”

“I…” her brow furrowed, because the depth of emotion there was— so unusual. There was a symphony of sentiments in both his words and his tone. “I’ll take care of him.”

He was staring at her, assessing her words, and finally dropped her wrist, looking exhausted now. 

“....Thank you,” he said softly in Japanese. 

She didn’t know how to respond to that, but instead reached back for his wrist instead, grabbing onto the sleeve of the stiff uniform and holding tight to keep his attention. 

“You focus on getting better,” she told him in the same language, her tongue feeling a little clumsy after more than half a year of non-usage with the familiar syllables, “and then, come back.”

She let him go then, wondering what she was saying, because Kallen managed to nab the perfect position for herself thanks to his incapacitated state, and she wasn’t going to give that up without a fight, and yet…

His smile looked empty. “Thanks,” he told her, this time in English. 

“What was that all about?” Gino asked, when they were flying out again, and Kallen set her flight schematics to auto-pilot, leaning back in her seat to get a bit of rest even as a finger tapped lightly on the present box still under a palm. Knightmares weren’t usually equipped for such long flights, yet recent advancements were pushed due to the need for support all over the world at the drop of a hat, although Kallen kept a careful eye on her energy filler. 

“Gino,” she said, staring up at the switches at the top of her cockpit, “I think I figured out why Prince Lelouch doesn’t want me around.”

— 

It was late— or more like early morning, by the time Gino and Kallen got back to where the Black Knight base was this time, and Kallen very eagerly changed out of her flight suit for a more casual shirt and lounge pants, too tired by then to deal with the stiff uniform of— well, it didn’t matter whether it was the Black Knight uniform or the Knight of Honor uniform. 

“Good night,” Gino murmured to her around a yawn of his own, and waved his parting while Kallen… headed toward Prince Lelouch’s suite instead of her own, intent on dropping off the gift before it burned a hole through a pocket with the way it somehow consumed her thoughts. She would just— drop it off with a note, maybe on that baby grand piano, and then it would be out of her hands entirely, literally and figuratively— 

As the door opened thanks to her passcode, she was surprised to see the room still aglow from the light of a hearth at the fireplace, warm and inviting. The rest of the suite was dark, and the warmth of the fire and smell of burning wood itself felt like a ridiculous indulgence, enough that Kallen felt another strand of irritation at the waste of material, intent on dousing the fire, when she saw the figure who looked to have fallen asleep surrounded by papers and a darkened but still open laptop. 

Prince Lelouch, as Kallen approached, didn’t look as… princely as he usually did, in his sleep. In just a simple untucked white dress shirt and dark pants, fallen over so that while his feet were on the ground, but he managed to tuck his face against the armrest, he looked… like an exhausted schoolboy, to be honest. 

Not like the Prince who managed to sing such destructive Songs, or the regal leader of the Black Knights, or even the arrogant and holier-than-thou prince of the Empire. 

It was a strangely humbling sight, and somehow in that moment, Kallen was reminded of Princess Nunnally and how vulnerable she looked in her wheelchair. 

She gathered the papers that spilled across the couch and the floor, and jogged it against the coffee table to straighten it all before she set it down carefully, placing it atop the laptop as she moved everything safely over to the coffee table and set the present atop everything. 

After that, she pulled the light blanket from the armchair, and in a strange surreal moment she couldn’t explain, perhaps contributed by the late hour, her exhaustion, and the warm and firelit room, she gently covered the prince with the blanket, remembering Suzaku’s words about how he got— cold. 

Prince Lelouch shifted, and Kallen froze in that second, not wanting to get caught in such a moment, but he seemed to settle a while later, murmuring something low under his breath that she strained to catch. 

“Suzaku,” the prince breathed out, reaching out a hand uselessly to a figure who wasn’t there, and then in a surprising move, continued in Japanese, “ _don’t go._ ”

She… Kallen reached over to the coffee table, and then gently pressed the present box into the prince’s hand, and then managed to sit down as he seemed to curl the present back to himself in his sleep, turning herself around to face the fire and hanging her arms over her pulled up knees. 

She wondered at her day, and her own personal revelations, and took just a moment to rest her eyes. 

The fire smoldered out and banked itself before Prince Lelouch finally stirred, Kallen managing to stay awake somehow through the entire night, tired as she was. 

It must have been hours later, and somehow barely felt like any time at all, just a few cycles to allow her brain to ponder over a few things, wondering what she was doing at all. 

Kallen was here not because of the Black Knights, as much as she did admire them out of all the Knights in Britannia, but because she wanted to protect the people she loved, and because maybe if she could somehow— become a good enough knight, maybe she could get a modicum of protection for her country, even if Britannia saw it as nothing more than another conquered Area. 

“Sir Kozuki,” Prince Lelouch’s voice behind her was grainy from sleep, but alert enough for his surprise as he woke slowly, and she turned her head to see him slowly push himself up from beneath the blanket, still looking— strangely vulnerable. Uncomfortably vulnerable, to her. “I— did you stay all night?”

She just shrugged awkwardly, somehow not feeling any more tired than when she must have started this strange vigil. 

“What’s this?” He asked, finally noticing the box he was holding onto. 

“A present,” Kallen told him, and then moved to stand herself, pushing herself up against her knees, and stretched her arms over her head. “Belated birthday present. From someone who— cares for you a lot. Not me, of course.”

He smiled, the expression much softer than usual. “...Of course.”

Again, she was almost uncomfortably reminded of Princess Nunnally and her smile, and her comparisons between herself and her brother. 

“Well,” she told him, only a little less awkward this time, and bowed slightly, “good morning, then, Your Highness. If you’ll excuse me…”

She stepped around the couch, and he called out, “Sir Kozuki? Get a good rest. I’ll… tell Rolo that you arrived back very early this morning, and to not disturb you.”

“...Thanks.” she said, and then amended with a more formal, “thank you, Your Highness.”

As she closed the electronic door from the outside, Kallen caught a glimpse of Prince Lelouch pulling out a long and bright red ribbon from the present box, although she couldn’t catch his expression. 

— 

With the way her missions away were escalating, it wasn’t altogether too long before the Knight of One apparently started utilizing the Black Knights as well and not just Knights of Honor. 

“We are not his personal armies,” Princess Nunnally hissed when the information first came through, hands gripping tightly on the armrests of her wheelchair. It was the first time Kallen had seen her angry in the past five months, and despite knowing that the young princess used to be the national fencing champion, the ferocity surprised her. “It’s bad enough that he has access to the people we depend on, but now he’s derailing everything! No matter how powerful Sir Waldstein is, _he is not the Emperor_.”

Prince Lelouch, despite his usual doting attention for his little sister, didn’t so much as look up from his paperwork at the words, and Kallen gave Rolo an uneasy look at the strange interaction. 

“And yet Cornelia is right, and we do have to listen to him,” the prince said calmly. 

“He,” the princess said lowly, “would have me killed.”

“You’re now a known _Liedmeister_ , and as such, he would never be able to move against you without some serious infractions on your part.”

“Like my fist meeting his face?” The princess asked, deceptively sweet. “That’s something I can still do.”

“Nunnally,” the prince put down his pen and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, clearly disapproving. “You can’t let him keep getting to you like this.”

The young princess gave him a long look, inciting an awkward silence in the room, before saying slowly, “It’s not him getting to me. It’s that last year, you would have agreed with me. _Six months ago_ , you would have agreed with me.”

“A year ago the world’s population had a very different number. Things have changed slightly since then—” 

“You used to agree with me, and I’d just feel better,” the princess interrupted, and then looked away even as she shifted in an uncomfortable and disappointed manner. “...And I would win that proverbial, imaginary fight just because I knew you would back me up.”

“Nunnally…” the prince moved to stand from his seat, but Princess Nunnally just waved that away in a manner that was blatantly fake as she moved her wheelchair around to leave the small meeting room. 

“Don’t bother,” she said, and rubbed at the side of her face. “We’ll just do as he says, like we’ve always been doing. He says jump and we jump. Oh wait,” she gestured down dramatically at her own legs, expression pinched in a false smile, “I’m afraid I won’t get very far on _that_ command.”

She left the room then, with Rolo throwing a worried look over at the prince before following her, closing the door gently behind him. 

Prince Lelouch just sat down again in his chair, like a marionette with its strings cut, and leaned back to cover his eyes with a hand and sigh. It was just enough for Kallen to see a red ribbon peeking out underneath the long sleeve. 

“...I should go after her,” he murmured, except Kallen spoke up instead. 

“Maybe she just needs some space. She could just be having a bad day.” It made sense. Even someone as sweet and demure as Princess Nunnally had to have a few off days. “It might not be about you at all.”

Prince Lelouch snorted and peeked out between his fingers. “Not about me at all?”

“Well. Not—” _Entirely about you_ , she wanted to say, but that sounded too much like a lie. “Alright, so it’s probably all about you.” Kallen shrugged a shoulder awkwardly, and then invited herself to sit at the chair before his desk, since no one else was around now and the door was shut. Not that anyone really expected her to play the part of the perfect knight, anyway. 

“All I know is that if my brother, who always agree and support me on everything and always made time for me, suddenly had a lot less time for me and started chastising me instead? I’d be really irritated, too.”

“And did he?” At this point, the prince had lowered his hand, looking curious. “Always support you and make time for you?”

That made Kallen scoff lightly, and she gave him an incredulous look. “Of course not. We got into plenty of arguments and disagreements, and kept different schedules. There were things I wanted to do that he didn’t want me involved in, and things he was involved in that I didn’t want him there for.” She gave a vague gesture, and fell quiet a moment to remember her and Naoto’s petty fights. All those little things that didn’t matter in the end. “I mean, he always did when it really _mattered_ , and that’s the point, isn’t it?”

“...And what mattered?”

There was something wistful and melancholy in his tone that made Kallen hesitate. 

“Ahh,” Kallen started, ruffling her hair as she looked away awkwardly, “if nothing else, you’re a really good brother. That’s not something you need to worry about. She can’t be happy with you all the time, it’s just not possible. Days like this are just going to be common.”

“...She’s right, though. It never used to happen before.”

“She wasn’t fifteen before.” Kallen said reasonably, and then shrugged. “It’s a sucky age.”

“I’ve been fifteen before,” the prince told her, amused. 

“For girls, then,” Kallen amended, but then corrected, “or just her especially. It’s different for everyone. You just need to give her some time. Maybe some space.”

“And that’s what you wanted from your brother when you were fifteen?”

Kallen almost barked out a laugh, remembering the tension during that age, back when she was so determined to prove herself to Naoto, wanting nothing more than to do what he did, and her frustration at his need to ‘keep her safe’, as if he didn’t believe in her skills. “...Not sure we’re very similar, her and I.”

“I beg to differ,” the prince said, and huffed out an exhale, looking down at his paperwork. “I’ve just been… busy lately.”

“Run ragged,” Kallen corrected him, and snorted. “I have your schedule, remember?”

“Yes, and you do enforce mealtime in a very annoying manner,” he told her, which only prompted Kallen to laugh. “Far more efficiently than I originally expected. I have to congratulate you on that, Sir Kozuki, and how well you’ve adapted to this.”

“You know,” she told him, falsely casual, “you can just call me Kallen. We’re kind of stuck together now, and I think we’re overdue ridding the formality part.”

“Oh? Stuck with a— pompous, arrogant Britannian prince?”

“You didn’t like me either at first,” Kallen told him dryly. “You avoided me a whole week, and then didn’t want me following you around.”

“...Fair.” Prince Lelouch admitted, with a faint smile. “...Kallen it is.”

— 

For Kallen, she thought she had a handle on how things worked now, from her time with the Black Knights to guarding Prince Lelouch during official meetings, to music lessons with an increasingly withdrawn Princess Nunnally, and her own checks back home for— her friends. Her mother. Nearly a year after the Ragnarok incident, and while they were no closer to a cure or figuring out how to rebuild, things seemed to have calmed down enough that the Spectres and Blight was starting to become… normal. 

A very strange semblance of normalcy. 

Most people settled into towns with maximum capacities, just dotted through the land for functional communities but not large enough to invite catastrophe if the Spectres did move in their direction. Places set up quarantine zones before allowing a person admittance, and Kallen got plenty of letters from Ohgi regarding how the settlements in Area 11 spilled outward, until communities were usually held with just a few buildings, with one large house or property as a quarantine zone— newcomers would spend a day and night in an uncontaminated room and then be checked over the next day thoroughly to ensure there were no splashes of black on their skin, and then let in amiably without all the threats and panic from the first few months after Ragnarok. 

Towns were quickly and efficiently abandoned when Spectres were seen coming, and homes with Blight summarily burnt. It wasn’t a great system, but there was a _system_ , and it was working decently enough that the panic was starting to wear off.

Wherever the Black Knights went, with Prince Lelouch to lead them through the past several months, the Blight… didn’t come back. And although the sites of ash always left Kallen feeling distinctly uncomfortable (a feeling she noticed was shared by many others), it meant that there were actually _safe_ areas. Areas for people to retreat to, even if— plants wouldn’t grow in the soil, and other animals also refused to come near. 

It was almost startling how fast fledgling cities started up in those areas, already cleared of everything on the land. 

If nothing else, the Black Knights left a trail of sites free of the Blight and the Spectres, even if Kallen breathed easier once she stepped away from those dead zones. 

And they were— dead zones. Maybe that was what made everything feel… strange in those areas, but the scientists that travelled with them tested everything left behind: the soil, the ash… and there was nothing left, not even bacteria. Just… inertness. It felt like an uneasy warning in her brain. 

Kallen stood behind Prince Lelouch as he gave the general speech to inform the Black Knights that they would be following the orders of Sir Bismarck Waldstein and for their entire operation to turn to Area 11 to deal with, he said with some irritation, a _very pressing matter_. 

His tone made it very obvious that he wouldn’t welcome anyone questioning him on the matter, since he hadn’t been informed of it either. 

“Area 11?” Gino asked in the mess during dinner, sliding into the seat across from her. “Isn’t that your home?”

“Japan,” Kallen corrected him, although the vehemence wasn’t there as she poked at the supposed salisbury steak, “yes.”

“I always wanted to go.” Gino told her excitedly, “You, Suzaku… even when I lived with my parents, I knew someone from Area— err, Japan, and it always sounded lovely.”

Kallen snorted softly, “...Not that lovely anymore. Just like the rest of the world, really. A lot of crumbling and burnt cities, and people in desperate need of help.”

“Still,” Gino insisted enthusiastically, waving around a fork with a grin. “It’s too bad we can’t go sightseeing. Tour the Area. It’s a series of islands, right? Like Hawaii!”

“I don’t know where you’re getting your information from,” Kallen said dryly, but then added, “...I’m sure we can— tour a bit. If Prince Lelouch has anything to say about it, I’m sure we won’t be under Sir Waldstein’s thumb the entire time. And it wouldn’t be the first time you waste energy fillers.”

“A-ahh,” Gino scratched at the back of his head with his free hand, laughing somewhat nervously, “didn’t I tell you? I won’t be staying in Area— in Japan for long. A few days, at most, to help with the move. Then I’m going back to Princess Euphemia.”

Kallen froze. “...What?”

“Well, you know what you’re doing now. I like staying with the Black Knights a lot— Euphie doesn’t have her own group of knights. Just me and Suzaku. So I’m definitely going to miss this feeling of camaraderie. It’s going to be weird not sitting at lunch with, like, a hundred other knights…”

“But you’ve been here for so long,” Kallen said numbly, feeling a strange drop in her stomach. “I learned everything I needed to learn ages ago.”

“Maybe I overstayed?” Gino wondered aloud but then seemed to think better of it, “you and Prince Lelouch seem to need a while to really connect, though. I had to stay long enough to make sure that happened, at least.”

Had he only stayed that long because of that? Kallen stood up, her chair screeching loudly in protest behind her, drawing the attention of several other knights, although she didn’t pay them any mind. 

“So what?” She asked snappishly, watching with narrowed eyes as Gino startled, “you didn’t think I could manage to find common ground with him? You thought— what? That I’d just fail? Give up? That if you weren’t here, I’d screw everything up and be replaced by someone else?”

Rather than getting flustered and backtracking immediately as Kallen thought he would do, Gino seemed to smile wryly at her reaction and waved a hand for her to calm down, his entire demeanor calm if a bit embarrassed. 

“Nah,” he told her with a wide grin, resting his chin in a palm, “I knew you’d be able to do it. I guess I was a little selfish and wanted to stay longer, just so I could get confirmation for Euphie. Or at _least_ until you agreed to go on a date with me!”

“That’s not going to happen,” she responded automatically, although Kallen could feel herself flush as she felt the attention on the two of them, and she sat down again at the edge of her seat, now feeling… silly, for her outburst. 

“Eventually, eventually,” Gino said back cheerfully, undeterred. “I’ll wear you down eventually.”

Kallen stared down at her lunch blankly. “So that’s it… huh.”

“Nah, we’ll definitely see each other loads. We’ll probably still have missions together, but you know, I can’t let Suzaku do my job forever.”

“So what will he do, then, if you’re taking over?” Kallen asked, picking up her fork again as she felt a swell of sympathy for the Japanese boy. She had taken over his role in the Black Knights, and now Gino was going to take back his job as Princess Euphemia’s Knight of Honor… it wasn’t as if the royal family couldn’t have more than one knight, as evidenced by the different orders of knights, but Princess Euphemia had never been known to… gather fighters. She just wasn’t a person who needed many knights around, because she never got into fights or arguments. 

At least, that’s from what Kallen could gather. 

Gino shifted, and then raised a finger to scratch at his chin with a grin that was almost a grimace, “...You’ll have to ask him about that one.”

Kallen picked at her food and thought that she would never be able to do something like that.

— 

“You’re up late.”

It wasn’t often that Kallen managed to catch C.C. unawares, but the witch merely glanced up at her briefly to acknowledge her presence before she went back to carding her fingers through Lelouch’s hair, the prince sleeping deeply enough that he didn’t so much as stir. 

Kallen didn’t take the lack of response as a deterrent, instead landing heavily to sit next to the green-haired woman, shifting so that her weapons wouldn’t dig into her hip as she attempted to relax, pulling up one leg to rest her elbow on. “...And he’s asleep sooner than usual.”

C.C., Kallen realized early on, was quite reluctant to talk to people without the aid of others to take the attention off her should she lose interest in a conversation. In fact, she seemed reluctant to talk to anyone other than Lelouch, whom she teased constantly in a manner that struck Kallen as unusual at first. 

She realized later that it was because Lelouch _allowed_ it, while others wouldn’t dare do anything of the sort in case he dismissed them from his service. 

(It took her a while to learn that he wouldn’t do something as drastic as that just because someone spoke back to him, but the fear was a hard one to break after Ragnorak, when a connection to royalty could mean life or death.)

C.C. had a small smile, staring off into the distance in a manner Kallen understood as being lost in thought. “You’re not asleep, either.”

“Gino insisted on dinner,” Kallen explained, leaning against the couch behind her and wondering why they were all seated on the floor instead of the furniture readily available. “And then things got out of hand.”

“That one,” C.C. tsked, although she sounded amused, “it’s never dull with that one around.”

“Well, he’s leaving soon,” Kallen shrugged, twisting a finger around a strand of hair and tugging. She wondered how she felt about that— Gino was a nuisance most of the time, yes, but he was a cheerful and helpful one. It was going to be strange without him around, constantly demanding her attention with his over-the-top presence. “He doesn’t really belong here, after all. He’s got Princess Euphemia to get back to.”

The cotton-candy princess, sweet in such a manner that it made Kallen a little ill from just how perfect she was. Granted, they only met the once, but from all the times Gino’s gushed about how amazing ‘Euphie’ was, Kallen felt like she knew the other girl a little too well. 

C.C. turned that indescribable smile on her. “Jealous?”

Kallen scoffed, letting go of her hair. “Me? Why would I be? I’m where I want to be, and he’ll be where he wants to be by next week.”

“‘ _Two households, both alike in dignity,’_ ” C.C. quoted monotonously, and Kallen had half a mind to swat at her, “A shame, really. But Lelouch and Euphemia have gotten along quite well as children, I’m sure you’ll be able to see Gino again.”

“I don’t need to see him again,” Kallen denied flatly. “Good riddance, really.”

That seemed to make C.C. chuckle, and she went back to staring into the distance. 

“What about you, then? Gino’s got somewhere else to go, what about you?”

“Why?” C.C. asked, “eager to get rid of me so quickly?”

A few months ago, Kallen might have floundered and stuttered at her faux pas, but now she knew the other woman well enough to know that C.C. found amusement when she managed to fluster others, and didn’t want to give her that pleasure. 

“You’re not one of the knights,” Kallen said. The Black Knights had a certain stance, and uniform, and ranks to adhere to like a military. C.C., on the other hand, did what she liked around the base and wore whatever she liked while the rest of them just tried their best to ignore her. Kallen had heard some of the younger recruits ask about whether she was Prince Lelouch’s mistress, only to have the older knights shut that rumor down viciously. 

Looking at C.C. and Lelouch now, Kallen could almost see why they would think that, because she thought that when she first met them as well, but their relationship was too— familiar for something like that. Stripped of societal pretenses and bluster, the two of them held too-similiar mannerisms and snark, with a strangely kindred air to each other. 

And then there were the ways that C.C. could casually reveal facts from the prince’s childhood, and Kallen wondered if they had grown up together despite Princess Nunnally’s denial about C.C. being there during their childhood. 

“I’m not,” C.C. confirmed, and her smile grew sly. “My loyalty belongs to no one but me.”

“Then why are you here?” Kallen asked again, because she didn’t understand. From everything she had seen, the other woman didn’t need any protection from the Blight. Everything about her was strange and jarring, because she seemed unafraid of everything, yet stuck close by at all times. She went into battle with the rest of them, but didn’t seem to have a reason to fight, unlike the rest of them. She followed Lelouch around, yet denied being in any way beholden to him. 

She had no fear of the Blight that send shivers down Kallen’s spine. 

She wondered for a while if perhaps C.C. was one of the Emperor’s bastard children— inheriting the same bloodline that made her immune to the atrocities, but holding no rank. Yet somehow… it didn’t seem like that at all. 

“Because it’s my choice,” C.C. answered her with a vague expression. “And I don’t go anywhere unless it’s of my own choice.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Kallen grumbled, wrapping an arm around her knee. As pretty as those words seemed, she was old enough to understand that no one did anything or went anywhere of strictly their own decision. There were too many rules, obligations, and perceived duties for such freedom. Kallen herself had her mother and her friends to think of, and now a prince who was blind to his own sense of self. 

(And maybe, maybe, Gino, who was too much an idiot to be trusted on his own entirely. He and his princess both were far too naive and open-hearted to survive on their own, and while it wasn’t her _job_ , Kallen could spare a thought once in a while to look after them to make sure they weren’t being taken advantage of.)

C.C. merely snorted, not taking the bait. 

“I’ll figure it out at some point,” Kallen promised. “After all, I’m not going anywhere.”

“There’s nothing to figure out. As Lelouch’s knight of honor, you’re already privy to more than anyone else.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh?” C.C.’s lips quirked in amusement. “And what are the names given to me you’ve heard, then?”

“What do you mean, ‘what are the names’? It’s not like you’ve given any names other than ‘C.C.’, which isn’t even a name—” 

“Surely you’ve listened to what other people call me.”

She did, actually. But after watching them interact, Kallen actually didn’t think that C.C. was Lelouch’s mistress at all. One because of all the stories she heard about Lelouch and his previous knight of honor, and another just because— while they seemed to gravitate toward each other an awful lot, they had stares that were just… too similar. 

Just like how she would never believe if anyone tried to insinuate that Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally were in some sordid romance. They were just too much like… family. 

As strange as that might sound. 

“That’s all just gossip and hearsay, anyway,” Kallen told her. “I don’t believe any of it.”

C.C. just smiled mysteriously and looked back down to where Lelouch was soundly asleep with his head on her lap, her fingers tangled in his hair. “Do you believe in magic, Sir Kozuki?”

“No,” Kallen said. 

“Really? Even in a world like this? What would you call the Songs, then? Or even the Spectres? All those things that defy current scientific explanation?”

Kallen thought about her childhood, about the influence of the Britannian Empire and how impossible it had been to fight against them. She thought about how impossible it felt to fight against the Spectres after Ragnarok. She thought about learning of what the Songs cost, and of what happened to Lelouch and his former knight of honor. She answered promptly, “Misfortune.”

That, at least, seemed to make C.C. scoff and then chuckle. “What a wonderful way to put it. Then, you should believe that I am a witch who brings misfortune and mayhem where I go. And that in involving yourself with me in any way may just bring tribulation to you and yours.”

“That’s so dramatic,” Kallen huffed out, even as C.C. smiled at her. “I told you, I don’t believe in the gossip and hearsay. The two of you, really, pair of peas in a pod. You and Lelouch are both so _dramatic_.”

The words were easy to say in the quiet of the moment, with just the three of them, and even then with Lelouch unhearing. C.C. paused in her ministrations to tuck a strand of long green hair behind her ear, her smile softening, gold eyes glinting even in the mild light of the room. 

“You should tell Sir Weinberg what you want to say,” C.C. said. “No sense in wasting time when you don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”

Kallen opened her mouth to protest again, the words sitting high in her throat that she had nothing at all to say to Gino, not when he was the one choosing to leave, not when he— 

But there was something in C.C.’s placid expression that halted her words, and instead Kallen found herself turning away from the other woman guiltily for some reason, her heart heavy. 

“It doesn’t matter what tomorrow will bring,” she said instead. “I can’t let that rush me. I’ll get to… things, at my own pace, whether I regret it in the future or not.”

When she turned back, C.C. was smiling at her, something genuine for the very first time.

— 

They were not greeted by Sir Bismarck Waldstein when they arrived in Area 11, which only smarted against everything Kallen felt, having to acknowledge her country, her home, by a number. She grit her teeth and bore it, knowing that— she would make a difference. Soon. This was just all part of the road to making a difference. 

Instead of the Knight of One on the port where the Black Knights were arriving, it was a little girl with pink hair, her attention immersed in a pink phone between her hands and two very tall, very burly men standing behind her in dark suits and sunglasses to make her look like a strange version of a rich and spoiled girl greeting them in her father’s place. 

Gino seemed to grow strangely quiet when he saw her, and his smile stilted, although he was still enthusiastic as ever when he went to greet the knight— who was apparently an old friend of his. Kallen just stayed out of the way when she could, helping the Black Knights move vehicles and equipment when she could, but mostly staying by Prince Lelouch’s side as he assigned tasks to various teams and overlooked plans from a shaded area, C.C. also by his side. 

It was nearly half an hour in, with the majority of the transports offloaded from the ships and submarine of the Black Knights that Kallen turned around after helping carry a box of ammunition only to find herself mere inches away from the pink-haired girl, startling her enough to take half a step back. 

...She might have also made a sound that might not have been appropriate for a Knight of Honor. 

The girl was frowning, and asked, “Karen Statdfeld?”

Gino seemed to be still at least fifty feet away, although he now seemed keenly interested in the conversation, the way he was power-walking over. 

“A-ahh, yes?” Kallen asked, drawing out the last word uncertainly for a long moment, heart still racing at the suddenness of her proximity. She hadn’t felt so caught off guard since the first lessons when Rolo had been sneaking up on her, and she used to think he was a sneaky little shit with ninja feet. 

The girl had pink eyes too, and pink socks held up with garters below a loose pink knit sweater that showed just the peek of white shorts and a black turtleneck underneath. She was frowning up at Kallen, and Kallen couldn’t help but cringing back a little behind the box she was carrying. The two suited guards were several feet behind the girl, looking undisturbed.

“You’re the new Knight of Honor,” the girl observed, as Gino finally approached them. 

“Hey, guys,” he called out, tone a little overly loud and words a little fast, and he dove in with a barked laugh to take the box from Kallen, and said to the girl, “Sorry, Anya, we’ve got to get these all into the transports quick or else Prince Lelouch starts getting, you know, a little antsy, and now we don’t want that—”

“I’ve been here five months,” Kallen said, now freed of the box in her arms, “I’m not a new anything, anymore.”

And she was proud of it, too, the long months of integrating herself with the Black Knights until people would smile at her in greeting instead of shying their eyes away. She worked hard, and she worked _long_ for her acceptance, and a Knight of Rounds uniform or not, she wasn’t going to let that go. 

“Kallen,” Gino called out, the word almost a hiss.

“The usual selection process for Knights of Honor is extensive,” the little girl told her, head tilted curiously, “months of classes, simulations, and tests. Gino can attest to that. You’ve _only_ been here five months.”

“Well,” Gino said around a grin, “Prince Lelouch has always been known for his quick decisions. It’s not even the first time with a Knight of Honor.”

“No,” the girl admitted thoughtfully. 

“Ah,” Gino waved between them with the box in his arms, “Kallen! This is Anya Alstreim, she the Knight of Six. Anya, this is Kozuki Kallen, Prince Lelouch’s new knight.”

“Not Karen Statdfeld, then?”

“I chose my mother’s name,” Kallen said, still feeling defiant. She was a Black Knight as well as a Knight of Honor, and she wasn’t going to hide behind half her blood anymore. Especially not that she was finally back on her own homeland. It was only then that the rest of the girl’s title registered with her, and her eyes widened. Knight of Six? As in _Knight of the Rounds_?

“Have you been tested, Kozuki Kallen?” The girl— Anya— said curiously. 

“She was sent straight into battle on her first day,” Gino said for her, “she’s an amazing pilot. Kept up and excelled at all the lessons in the last five months, too. Can we—? Sorry, we’re on a schedule and this box is getting heavy.”

“You can go then, Sir Weinberg,” Anya said, and— Kallen wanted badly to keep names professional in her head, especially when the girl seemed to be one of the Emperor’s personal knights, but Anya looked so small and non-threatening that she couldn’t seem to categorize her properly, despite knowing that young and small did not mean safe. Especially not after she’d been training with Rolo for the past months. 

“Okay, I’ll catch up with you later, Anya!” Gino called out, and then shuffled the box’s weight to one arm as he reach to tug on Kallen’s arm, pulling her along even as she opened her mouth to protest the manhandling. 

“I’d like to talk to Miss… Kallen? Or Kozuki?”

That seemed to freeze both Gino and Kallen, and she yanked her arm out of his grip, saying, “ _Sir_ Kozuki, in this case.”

There was just something condescending about the way the little girl hadn’t addressed her by the title she rightfully earned this entire time. 

“Sir Kozuki,” Anya echoed, eyes a little drooped and sleepy, and she turned her head to look at one of her guards, who approached with a long case, holding it in both arms and dipping his head as he stopped a step away from her, waiting. “I’d like to arrange a test.”

“A test?” Kallen said warily, only to be interrupted. 

“What is going on here?” Sir Jeremiah Gottwald said as he approached the group. He was frowning, even as he tilted his head down deferentially towards Anya a moment. “Lady Alstreim. Thank you for greeting us today.”

For a moment, it looked like Anya was taken aback, although all hints to that faded a mere second later as her gaze fell into something disinterested and aloof again. 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to steal our Black Knights back for the moment,” Sir Jeremiah continued, as charming as ever as he smiled at the young girl, “there are many things left to finish on the agenda today, and we cannot afford a delay.”

“A rush?” Anya asked, “to somewhere on a deadline?”

“Not so,” Gottwald amended apologetically, “but we have a reputation to uphold, and our aid needs to be swift.”

Anya was silent for a moment, and then said, “if you insist. I will arrange for men to aid you, if you allow me a few minutes of one knight’s time.”

And with that, there was nothing Sir Gottwald could do to interfere either, as Kallen watched him reluctantly nod and step back. 

“Anya, don’t you think the old tests are a little— outdated?” Gino asked, “maybe before Ragnarok, it worked. But after, we can just prove ourselves in battle, and Kallen’s proven herself many times.”

The Knight of Six turned to her guard, and snapped open the buckles of the case, pushing it open to reveal an ornate gold pummeled sword, a little thinner than average to put it somewhere between an epee and normal swords that Kallen had seen hung on the belts of Knights of Honor. 

There was an audible inhale of breath somewhere next to her, and she wasn’t sure who it was. 

Anya lifted the sword from the case gingerly, but then gave it a sharp downward swing to test it, leaving a sharp resonance behind. She turned, lifting the sword high enough to point toward Kallen, the pink sleeve of her sweater falling back a bit. 

“A test,” she said, and despite the sleepy eyes, there was something sharp and calculating in her stare, even in the lazy tone of her voice. “To first blood, as per tradition. A challenge from the Knight of Six to the new Knight of Honor to a _Liedmeister_.”

“Lady Alstreim—” Sir Gottwald attempted to interrupt. 

“I accept,” Kallen said, ignoring how Gino seemed to tense beside her. 

“She doesn’t have her sword on her,” Gino blurted out, and then smiled placatingly as both girls turned to give him bland stares. “I know, I know, we’re always supposed to have our swords on us, but we’re basically just moving stuff today so no one’s dressed all that formally. At least let us get her sword.”

Anya lowered the ornate sword, expression blank. 

“Okay, thanks,” Gino said, and gave them no time to disagree as he dumped the box on Sir Gottwald and grabbed Kallen by the hand, setting a swift pace with his much longer legs, “we’ll be right back, then!”

Kallen let this happen generously for about half a minute until they were clearly out of both sight and earshot of the others, before she yanked her hand away and said very sweetly to Gino, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think _you’re_ doing?” Gino asked her, and the pretense of sweetness dropped from his tone as they huddled behind several large containers that were to be moved by Knightmares later. “Anya is the _Knight of Six_. She knows what she’s doing!”

“And I don’t?” Kallen snapped back, crossing her arms defensively. “What’s your deal, anyway? I thought you said you were friends with her? Now she shows up, and you’re— skittish.”

“You’re underestimating her,” Gino warned. 

“I’m really not,” Kallen said dryly. “I get it, she’s a Knight of Rounds. One of the most skilled people in the Empire. But she’s tiny. I have an advantage of strength, reach, and endurance, just from what I can see.”

Anya Alstreim not only looked like a little girl, but her limbs were thin and her exposed legs looked like she could do with a good meal more than it looked like there might be a definition of muscles. Kallen was aware that looks could be deceptive, and she tended to use that to merciless advantage when she could, but she was confident she could at least hold her own against a girl who looked several years younger than her and at a point in her growth where she would be clumsy and uncoordinated. 

“You don’t think I could hold my own against her?” Kallen continued to ask, until Gino took a step back at the vehemence and raised his hands defensively. “What happened to all those compliments about me?”

“It’s not that,” Gino said, and then corrected, “not only that. It’s not that she’s just a Knight of the Rounds, or that she’s actually a very vicious fighter and men thrice her size and age have regretted trying to take her on, but… Kallen, she’s— dangerous.”

“So am I.” Kallen insisted, eyes narrowed.

“She was one of my best friends back in school,” Gino said, and then sighed, raising a hand to scratch a finger against his cheek in thought. “Maybe a bit one-sided. She was really young, and smaller than she is now, and I wanted to make sure she was alright, so I’d check up on her a lot, but she could always take care of herself. No one cheered more than me when she was drafted as a Knight of Rounds. Anya deserved all of it. Just like I think you deserve your position!”

“So me vs. _Anya_ , fair fight, who do you think would win?” Kallen demanded. 

“A _fair_ fight? Like you said, you have the advantage.” Gino admitted.

“Then why are you so worried? Don’t want me to prove I can beat a Knight of Rounds, or you think I’d be doing a terrible thing beating up a little girl?”

“It’s just—” Gino snapped his jaw shut on his own words, and he brought a hand up in frustration, hesitating several moments as he tried to figure out his words. “Okay. I’ve known Anya for a while. Since before she became the Knight of Six. You’ve seen her, right? She loves pink. Pinks, reds… those are her colors.”

“Yes, and?” Kallen said, impatient. 

“She’s also got a tendency of— pictures. Selfies. She keeps something like a picture diary, story of her life.”

“Gino, get to the point.” Kallen groused. 

“She got a tattoo when she joined the Knight of Rounds. Their insignia. On her arm. It’s— well, she _is_ a Rounds member, so it’s fine, since it’s illegal to impersonate the knights—” 

“Same with any other symbols given to Knights of Honor,” she rushed along. 

“Right, and—” Gino made a frustrated sound, and then pointed at her, “I’ve seen pictures of it. Anya got the tattoo in this light red color. Saw it for myself, too. This pinkish-red, plain as day. Thought nothing of it, since it’s her color. It makes sense.”

“ _And_?” Kallen urged. 

“It’s black.” Gino said, and Kallen waited a long moment for him to continue before she realized that was it, that was all he was going to say to that, and she scoffed. 

“Her tattoo?” She asked, incredulous. “That’s _it_? Am I supposed to— figure something out here?”

He kept staring at her, as if he was— expecting more of a reaction from her, before deflating a bit, and then rubbing at the back of his neck, taking a step back. “You know what, you’re— you’re right. Let’s just get your sword.”

At his sudden change in demeanor, Kallen found her own irritation and her mocking smile dropping as well as Gino turned and started away again, this time toward the main base where Kallen’s quarters were. 

“Hey,” she called out, catching up to him in a jog, “you’re really worried about this.”

“Of course not,” he said, and this time his tone was falsely jovial. The good thing about Gino, Kallen found, is that not only was he usually the cheerful one, but he was so blatantly honest as well. Months of standing as Knight of Honor to Prince Lelouch, and she barely managed to figure the tiniest thing out about the person behind Zero’s mask. Gino, on the other hand, read like an open book from the very beginning. “It’s just to first blood. She’s right, in a way, even I had to do this before I became Princess Euphemia’s knight.”

“What about the tattoo, anyway?” Kallen asked, feeling a little guilty for not taking his warning seriously. “So she got it again. Maybe she wanted something that permanent in a darker color. Tattoos fade eventually.”

“Maybe.” Gino said. 

Kallen studied him, quiet now, as they made their way into the mobile base, passing several other Black Knights who looked busy with the move, and she eventually told him, “I’ll be careful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, as they made it her quarters, “just… try not to come into physical contact. Especially with that tattoo on her arm.”

“Bad feeling?”

He huffed out a laugh that sounded a little self-deprecating, and agreed, “Huge one.”

“Which side’s her tattoo on?”

Gino tapped at his left bicep, and Kallen only nodded before she slipped into her quarters, the small room close enough to the royal ensuite for her to be close, but also just far enough away for privacy. Her sword had been tossed atop an ottoman at the foot of her bed, alongside with her formal uniform which she probably should have hung up, but Kallen didn’t like the stiffness of it, and so tended to wear her regular Black Knight uniform instead. 

She buckled on the belt with her sword on it, feeling the familiar weight on her hip, and then left her room again, telling Gino, “What you’re suggesting is ridiculous.”

He shrugged, “...Probably.”

“I’ll take it under advice, anyway,” she said as they made their way out of the base. “Because you’re my friend. And you’re— well, being too careful never hurt. It’s not as if you’re trying to sabotage me.”

“Sabotage who?”

The good thing was that she wasn’t the only one who jumped at that, seeing as Gino not only startled but also gave you a pitched yelp before the two of them turned around to see Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally coming down another corridor, the young princess with a smile that she was trying to hide behind her hand, and Prince Lelouch at the handle of her wheelchair, giving them a suspicious look. 

“Nothing, Your Highnesses,” Gino responded cheerfully, although he still had a hand at his chest from the startle. “And I have to say, Prince Lelouch, you are getting— _very_ good at sneaking up on people. Did Rolo teach you that?”

“We weren’t sneaking,” the prince told them dryly. “Perhaps my best knights need to pay more attention to their surroundings.”

“I left my quarterly sheet in my room,” Princess Nunnally said, holding up a folder from her lap, “what are you guys doing inside?”

“Kallen left her sword,” Gino said, “and she needs it for the challenge that Sir Alstreim gave.”

That seemed to catch the prince’s attention fast. 

“The _what_?”

— 

“At least it’s not to the death,” Gino told her, as Kallen tried to stretch out a few kinks from carrying things earlier, “I mean, ‘to the death’ isn’t exactly allowed for Knight of Honor fights, mostly because they want to keep the candidate afterward, or in the rare case, the more experienced knight—” 

“Yes,” Kallen told him irritably, “I _get it_ , Gino.”

“So Anya’s fast,” he continued to blather, as if he were the one nervous and about to accept the duel, “since she’s tiny and all, she uses her speed to her strength. And she attacks low. Usually drops and goes for the ankles and kneecaps when she can, sent a lot of other students to the infirmary back in school whenever anyone tried to challenge her—” 

“Should you even be telling me things like this?” Kallen asked, unsheathing her sword to swing it comfortably around her wrist. “Isn’t that cheating? And didn’t you say you think I’d win, anyway?”

“She’s probably looked up information on you,” Gino wheedled, “everything on your file.”

“Nothing on my file says anything about my fighting style.”

“You Academy files might,” he reminded her. 

“Well, they couldn’t categorize it either,” she said with a huff, and relaxed her sword arm, “...my brother was the one who taught me.”

She moved away the moment she saw the statement pique his interest, not wanting to elaborate. 

“Any other tips for me?” She asked instead before Gino could attempt to pry.

To his credit, he seemed to think about it for a moment before giving a sheepish shrug. “Well, at least Prince Lelouch is supervising now. Who knew Anya was given Empress Marianne’s sword?”

Kallen pursed her lips and swung with her sword, shaking out her arm muscles a bit. “...Who knew.”

That was fine, though. The incentive of winning over that sword just gave her more motivation to win. If she could— well, maybe if she had that sword, then she could finally put to rest the nagging feeling that she wasn’t meant to be here, and that she was nothing but a replacement for Sir Kururugi. 

But, the Knight of Six had specified, in order for the wager to be fair, if Kallen lost, then she would have to reconsider her position as Prince Lelouch’s Knight of Honor.

“Why doesn’t Rolo have to do this?” She groused. 

“Oh, he’s already done it,” Gino commented, moving out of arm’s reach just in case. “He, uh, allegedly ended it pretty fast.”

“Allegedly?”

“...by throwing a knife into the other knight’s thigh.”

“Lovely,” Kallen murmured, and wished she could do something that underhanded and be allowed to get away with it. 

“Well, he was allowed his choice of weapons since he was— I heard he was eleven then.”

“So— win the fight.” Kallen murmured to herself, and lifted her sword to balance the blade straight up, close enough that her breath fogged the steel slightly. “No big. Just draw first blood against a Knight of the Rounds. Draw first blood or else my position might be revoked.”

“Draw first blood and win Empress Marianne’s blade.” Gino inputted helpfully. “Which is akin to a national treasure. If nothing else, you’ll win Prince Lelouch’s approval if you present him with his mother’s sword. But if you do win, Princess Cornelia might come to challenge you herself for it— ”

“I can do it,” Kallen emphasized to herself, ignoring the last part, and then stepped back towards the cleared area where already a small crowd was starting to gather, not giving Gino any time to add anything. 

Prince Lelouch was still standing with his sister, this time with Rolo next to them as well, and the prince was eying the sword that Sir Alstreim was holding with an intense frown. Sir Alstreim, surprisingly, seemed to also be looking back toward the prince and princess, although her expression was— carefully blank. 

“Are you ready?” The prince asked Kallen, although he didn’t look in her direction. 

If the past five months had taught her anything… well, Kallen managed to improve many aspects of her fighting techniques with the time period, thanks to numerous people who refused to let her slack in any corner that might allow harm to come to their prince. 

She let out a carefully controlled breath, swinging her sword downward once and then rolling her wrist to swing in a circle, feeling to ensure that her joints were as loose as needed. “...As I’ll ever be.”

Sir Jeremiah Gottwald was standing to oversee the fight, although he looked rather unhappy to do so. As Anya (no, Kallen though, _Alstreim._ She would address her not as a little girl, but as a formidable opponent) stepped forward with the gold hilt of Empress Marianne’s blade, Kallen stepped forward as well, willing herself to drown out the murmurs that seemed to break out with the Black Knights around them, who seemed to have stopped in their duties to come watch this event. 

In a formal challenge, if they had been back in Pendragon and it became a spectacle to prove a new Knight of Honor’s skill, Gottwald might have addressed the royalty witnessing respectfully, called out what this was about, and then signalled the start of the fight. 

They were, however, not in Pendragon, and Sir Alstreim gave Kallen no warning before she darted forward, sword extended to its full reach in a manner that would have stabbed her through if she hadn’t sidestepped immediately with a startled intake of breath. 

The forward steps were carried through to a two step change in direction, fast and effortless as the Knight of Six went after her again, not a single fluid movement wasted her in attack. Kallen managed to deflect that one with her own sword, diverting the angle enough to try and let the smaller girl stumble past her to gain the advantage, although that didn’t work as Alstreim used the forward moment to duck low instead and swivel back to face her, even if her sword strike had been deflected. 

“What the _hell_ ,” Kallen gritted out, too shocked by the deadly strikes to attack back just yet, “didn’t you say _to first blood_?”

The pink-haired girl didn’t respond to her, although there was a slight and wicked quirk of her lips as she came back for another attack, using her entire body to speed an already fast strike as she swung from a spin, and Kallen had to block because there was no way to step far enough away in time. 

It was enough for her to realize that ‘to first blood’ in this case might include serious injuries as a win as well. She’d still bleed from a stab through the stomach or a cut off limb. 

Kallen grit her teeth and shoved back with her sword, hard enough to send the smaller girl stumbling back a step, clearly not expecting her to be that strong immediately. 

“Why are you challenging me, anyway?” Kallen demanded, and dashed forward for her own attack before Sir Alstreim could recover enough, and the young girl dropped low to dodge the strike. “I’ve been here for months. If you had a problem with me before, why not challenge me when I first became a Knight of Honor? Why wait until now?”

The pink haired girl’s eyes narrowed, and she moved in a way that might have slashed through Kallen’s achilles had Gino not already warned her enough that she jumped away several steps to stay out of range. “You’re here now.”

“And that’s why?” Kallen demanded, knowing that everyone was listening to them, if only because everyone was watching them. “I’m in convenient reach, and you wanted to take something out on someone?”

“No.” the Knight of Six said, and dashed forward again, fully intent on ending the fight soon. Kallen jumped back again, because now she wanted answers more than anything else, and she was sure that she had more stamina than the tiny girl with her thin arms and legs. 

“Why me, then? Why not pick a fight with other knights? Gino’s always down for a brawl. I’m sure Rolo wouldn’t mind having a reason to maim someone.”

Instead of a follow-up attack, the young girl’s eyes seemed to dart toward the prince and princess, and where Rolo was standing as well, and Kallen felt something turn in her thoughts. 

“It can’t just be because I’m new,” Kallen said, making sure to continuously keep out of range, hoping that it’d be easy enough just to tire the other girl out. “You called me Stadtfeld earlier. If you’ve seen my file, you must have seen the name change.”

Alstreim came in for another attack, this time even faster than before, and Kallen yelped as she barely managed to twist out of the way, her sword barely managing to block the incoming blade, a close enough call that she could see the line where her sleeve looked— a little slashed, even if not all the way through. Not enough to touch skin and draw blood. 

“You should focus on fighting,” Alstreim told her evenly. 

“If you answer why you’re fighting with me,” Kallen told her, “and why you’re doing it _now_. Are you trying to prove some point? That I can’t fight because I’m half Japanese? Do you just not like the fact that I refused my father’s name? Think I’m inferior somehow just because I have foreign blood? _What is it_?”

Kallen took the moment as Alstreim seemed to tense, to launch her own attack, moving as unpredictably as she could, and the excess energy she saved up from doing mostly dodging up until now to push the Knight of Six back with just the strength of her strikes, forcing her on the defensive to blow her back with the thin blade. The younger girl was much too fast when given the chance to attack, and so Kallen wasn’t going to give her a chance at all, even if that might seem a bit unsportsmanlike in front of the Black Knights. 

It was Sir Alstreim, after all, who attacked without announcing the start of the fight. 

“Why challenge me,” Kallen gritted out a word between each strike of her blade, straining her arms to keep the smaller girl stepping back defensively, “the moment you saw me?!”

“Because you weren’t with him,” the other girl hissed, sounding— not at all like the Anya Alstreim of before, tone deeper somehow; older and bitter, if anything. She was quiet enough for her words to only reach Kallen, “when that should be your entire job. When that _is_ your entire job.”

The vehemence startled Kallen just enough that Alstreim was able to strike back before the next blow, the smaller girl managing to drop and roll right between Kallen’s wide stance, meant to plant herself down to give more power to her sword swings. Kallen turned immediately, and jumped out of the way of a strike that would have slashed at her ankles again. Gino really had been right. 

“Are you a Knight of Honor,” the Knight of Six asked, tone low, and used a free arm to point toward the prince and princess at the side even as she stood in one fluid movement, managing to stay on a low center of gravity. “Or are you just another one of the Black Knights, assigned for nothing more than basic soldier duties?”

“You don’t get to—” Kallen started furiously, and then yelled in shock as Alstreim charged her suddenly, arm back to toss her sword— the priceless national treasure— straight at Kallen like a javelin, straight at her head from close range. Kallen could do nothing but duck to that, unable to deflect that strike with the time given, which only gave Alstreim an opening to slip through as the small girl dropped low to slow her momentum and then swung around with a palm on the ground to kick at the back of her knees when Kallen ducked down. 

She went down with a heavy thud that knocked the breath out of her lungs, and Alstreim used that advantage to drop down atop her, one knee landing painfully on the wrist holding her sword as she stretched to pin her other wrist under the heel of an extended leg, keeping low to tell her in a hiss, “It doesn’t matter if I lose my sword, there are always other ways to make you bleed if you’re not a good enough Knight of Honor for—” 

Kallen heaved herself upward to knee the other knight as hard as she could in the back, feeling a gleeful satisfaction as she heard the exhale of pain as she used the momentary shock to grab onto Alstreim in return and reverse their positions, pinning the smaller girl underneath her despite losing her sword in the process. 

“You’re right,” she hissed out, “I don’t need my sword to make you bleed.”

It was almost disturbing to see the smaller girl, with her young features and her pink accessories, bare her teeth threateningly. 

“Watch,” the younger girl said, almost deceptively sweet compared to her earlier monotone, “and learn.”

Kallen yelped in pain as Alstreim headbutted her, hard enough that her entire body jerked in response to the pain reverberating through her skull, drawing back involuntarily enough to free the Knight of Six. 

“Why are you here?” The pink-haired girl demanded, even as Kallen pressed a hand against toward the point on her skull that would surely bruise if her cranium wasn’t cracked from the impact. “Your motives are shallow. Your intentions are selfish. I looked through your file. You’ve gotten what you want now, and now you’re finally home, so who’s to say you won’t abandon your duty and run right back—” 

“Because he’s my friend!”

Kallen managed to look up through the pain still ringing through her ears, glaring at the smaller girl also holding her own forehead, eyes the slightest bit unfocused from the blow. 

“Because,” Kallen gritted out, “he’s an idiot always running into the first sign of trouble, like he doesn’t understand that there are people who care about him. And I swore an oath, just like the rest of you. So you don’t get to come in and _judge_ me based on nothing more than a folder of papers that tells you nothing about who I am.”

It was all somehow… true. In the live months she had been with the Black Knights, Kallen found herself strangely fond of Prince Lelouch despite her earlier negative assessments of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t irritate her anymore, because he did, _always_ , but somehow understanding a little more of where he was coming from and shadowing his actions for months meant she gained a bit of insight into his thought process— and it was one that was both brilliant when it came to strategy, and entirely idiotic when it came to his own safety. She couldn’t help but— _like_ him a little bit. Enough to guard him willingly from dangers, even if those dangers might come in the form of restlessness and nightmares.

She took a moment, and then pulled her hand away bitterly, feeling the swipe of liquid that meant the bruise under her skin must have broken through, if only a little bit beading through the top layers of her skin.

“Do what you will, then,” Kallen said bitterly, knowing that the beading blood must be obvious to the crowd watching the fight, “since you think I’m going to _run off_ anyway.”

Alstreim seemed to scowl heavily in return, but also dropped her hand to reveal the redness of her skin, and— what looked like the same blood starting to bead out. 

“You’re an idiot,” Alstreim said, and her tone was now back to the same monotone, her eyes hooded and disinterested again, “the only ones who can break the Knight of Honor bond are the two people it involves.”

That— she felt her breath hitch— _of course_. Of course she knew that. How did she ever think—? 

Sir Alstreim looked over to Gottwald, who was still refraining from commenting, and told him quite flatly, “It’s a tie. This time.”

Kallen sat down heavily on the ground, wincing when the movement rattled through her skull again, refusing to look in the direction of the prince and princess who very much must have heard her declaration. She didn’t want to think about that yet. As Alstreim went to pick up her sword from where it had been thrown, Kallen called out, “And Empress Marianne’s sword?”

Alstreim just handed the blade over to her guards, stowing it back into the case again as one gave her back her pink phone. She fiddled with it for a moment before turning, and very obviously, taking a picture of a stunned Kallen. 

“What about it?” The Knight of Six asked, monotone, “you haven’t won yet.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be out last Saturday with a new summary if I only stayed at home to finish editing, lol. Instead, I went out and ended up with a dislocated and broken ankle that I'm getting surgery for in, uh, the morning (maybe I should go to sleep). Now, I'm not sure I'll finish this story on my own deadline, especially with how unfocused I've been this entire week. It's going to take me a while before my butterfly brain will let me focus on writing. One more fixed POV chapter, and then things start focusing more on plot than characters. 
> 
> The next time ya'll hear from me, I should not be able to step through a metal detector without it going off again, lol. *V* Steel pins to align my bones, yeah!


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